


New Music

by Laura_Mayfair



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M, Family, Music, Piano, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-27 08:43:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 43,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_Mayfair/pseuds/Laura_Mayfair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura adopts young Kara Thrace and years later gets ready to meet her daughter's future father-in-law, Admiral Adama. The admiral and the Secretary of Education are not certain what to make of one another as the sparks fly. Work in progress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"So I'll see Ben - not next week, Mrs. Chandler, but the following," said Laura as she ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. He laughed and hugged her with an enthusiastic smile before running to his mother.

"Why can't I come next week?" asked Ben.

"Ben!" exclaimed his mother.

Laura laughed. "It's okay. Do you have any idea how fantastic it is to have such an enthusiastic student?" Laura knelt down to meet Ben's eyes. "Next Saturday I am spending the day with my sisters. But I'll see you for music class at school on Thursday and if you have any questions, I can always spare some time for you. How's that?"

"Okay," Ben answered with a little smile.

Turning to Mrs. Chandler, Laura beamed. "Ben's doing really well. He's such a great student. I wrote down exactly what we worked on in his notebook. There are a couple of music theory exercises in the workbook and he has two pieces to practice. Hands separately and then together."

"Thank you, Miss Laura," said his mother with a farewell wave. Laura watched mother and son descend her front steps. At that moment, her next student pulled up. With a frown, Laura observed the little towhead blonde and her mother getting out of the car. Kara Thrace was not a typical five year old. While most of her littlest students enjoyed an occasional hug, Kara shied away from any physical contact. Kara was extremely bright with her rapid-fire, inquisitiveness and unbridled curiosity. She was unusually disciplined for someone so young and extremely hard on herself when she made a mistake. Usually children that were so self-deprecating responded to praise - but not Kara. She seemed almost resentful of positive feedback, not just as if she didn't want it - but that she didn't deserve it.

Kara's mother held her daughter's hand as they hurried across the walkway, practically dragging the child along. "She didn't practice," Mrs. Thrace announced flatly as they reached the steps.

Ignoring the negative comment, Laura greeted the woman instead. "Hello, Mrs. Thrace." She squatted down to be at eye level with the little girl. "Hi Kara. Why don't you go inside and - " Laura noticed the bandage on Kara's left hand.

"Kara's so clumsy. She closed the lid of the piano on her fingers," explained Kara's mother. "Not enough to get her out of practicing. Or of coming to her lesson today."

"Kara, go inside and warm up, okay? Right hand only." Laura almost reached out to touch the child's shoulders and then remembered how Kara felt about being touched. When she heard Kara beginning to practice her scales, she turned to Mrs. Thrace.

"It's all right if she didn't practice, Mrs. Thrace. She's very young and my goal is to foster her interest in music, to encourage and motivate her, not to have unrealistic expectations and berate her." Laura couldn't help herself. She wanted to scream at the woman for her blatant insensitivity and callousness. The surest way to discourage a child from the piano was to make it feel like a chore. Laura constantly strove to bolster the confidence of her students - never to tear them down.

"I don't give a frak what your expectations are, Miss. Roslin. My daughter is not an average child. She needs structure and discipline. Don't you dare tell me how to raise my child." Mrs. Thrace's voice was shrill. "If you can't teach her properly, then I'll find someone who can," the woman threatened angrily.

Under any other circumstances, Laura would have continued to rationalize her arguments with a few choice words and she would have succinctly told off anyone who spoke to her that way. She was still fuming about Kara's mother being so unsympathetic to her daughter's injury, calling her "clumsy." It was cruel. But Mrs. Thrace was not a rational woman and, truthfully, Laura did not want to lose Kara as a student. She cared a great deal about the little girl and wanted to help her. She especially wanted to go talk to her and find out what had happened with her hand. Alienating Mrs. Thrace now would not be a good idea. So she swallowed back the torrent of things she wanted to say and hoped that she was doing a fair job at concealing her mounting anger.

"I understand perfectly. Kara and I had better get to work then. I'll see you in an hour." Laura didn't give the woman a chance to protest. She merely turned on her heel and went inside. Thankfully, Mrs. Thrace clomped to her car and drove away.

From the threshold of the door, Laura watched Kara as she sat at the piano, her injured hand was in her lap while she slowly played exercises with the right one. Laura moved her chair next to the piano bench, positioning it to the left hand side.

"I'll tell you what - I'll play the left hand harmony on your pieces today. It will be just like us playing a duet and we can just work on your right hand. I could use the practice, myself."

As was often the case, Kara was silent.

"Nice job with your warm ups, Kara." Laura gazed down at Kara's bandaged fingers. "How did you hurt your hand again?"

"I caught it in the drawer," Kara answered in a dry monotone as she looked straight ahead.

Laura's uneasiness grew. Kara's mother had said that her daughter had gotten her hand caught in the lid of the piano at home and now Kara was telling her that she had caught it in a drawer. Either Kara's mother was lying or Kara was confused. At twenty-nine years old, Laura Roslin had been teaching music at a public school for the past seven years. She had been teaching private piano lessons since her teens. She knew kids' behavior and she had instincts that had been honed through experience. Her gut was telling her that there was something very, very wrong.

"Kara, could you look at me, sweetheart?" Laura asked gently. When Kara's frightened brown eyes met her worried green ones, Laura spoke again. "I want you to know that you can tell me anything. I'm your teacher and I care about you very much. If there is anything that you want to tell me about how you hurt your hand, or anything else - you can. I would really like to help you. Even if you're scared to tell me, I promise that it will be okay and I will help you fix it."

Kara sat perfectly still. Laura noticed that she was nervously scrunching up the hem of her white dress in her right hand, making a tight fist, and squeezing.

"I don't wanna talk about it," Kara said after several seconds passed.

"Okay," Laura said. "But if you change your mind, I will be right here. We can talk anytime." Laura hoped that if she waited a little, that she could broach the subject again before the lesson was over and get Kara to open up.

"You were playing "Turkey Waltz," if I remember correctly?" Laura purposely mis-quoted the song title.

Kara emitted a small laugh. "Butterfly Waltz," she corrected.

"Oh yes. A bunch of turkeys would look pretty silly waltzing, wouldn't they?"

Kara nodded as Laura opened up her book and turned to the correct page.

"Miss Laura?"

"Yes?"

"I did a bad thing," Kara informed her hesitantly as she continued to squeeze the hem of her dress.

"You want to tell me about it?" Laura coaxed.

Kara gazed at her teacher with a startlingly sad, contrite expression. "I wanted butterflies on the piano. Like in the song. So I drew them with the markers from the kitchen drawer." She waited for Laura to look horrified. When she didn't, she continued, "I thought it would wipe off like my markers but Mama said that those ones are premre-per-mem-net."

"Permanent," whispered Laura.

"Yes," answered Kara. "Permemnet."

"Kara, that was an accident."

"I was bad," argued Kara firmly.

"How did you hurt your hand, honey?" Laura took a slow breath, hoping that her instincts were wrong.

"Mama got mad when she found out what I did," whispered Kara. "She closed the piano down on my hand." Kara made a strangled cry that she couldn't stifle and turned away.

"Oh, Kara. I'm so sorry." Laura put a hand on her shoulder, very softly. When the child didn't flinch or pull away, she left it there and began stroking her back, offering wordless consolation and comfort.

Kara began to cry without making a single solitary sound; the only indication of her distress was the tiny, telltale movements of two small shoulders.

"Kara...Kara….give me your eyes."

"I'm not 'sposed to cry," apologized Kara in a voice like broken glass. She would not face Laura.

"Kara, look at me." Laura could feel her own eyes filling up. When Kara didn't turn around, Laura explained. "I'm crying, too. Maybe we can get through the crying together."

At last, Kara Thrace turned around to face her teacher. With an anguished cry, she flung herself into Laura Roslin's arms and sobbed.

* * *

 

Sitting on a swing in the dusky afternoon light, Laura watched the children taking turns spinning one another on the merry-go-round. The smell of autumn lingered in the earthy scent of the leaves under their feet. She swung lazily, watching the kids get bored with the merry-go-round and race toward the slide. John Quinn, a longtime friend and colleague who taught history at her school, sat beside her on the adjacent swing.

"She's such a different child," John commented.

"Mmmmm, she is. It's been so hard this past year and a half. So much upheaval. Her mother's trial. And then the heart attack. I never thought I'd say this about another human being but her mother's passing was, in some ways, a blessing in disguise. That's terrible, isn't it?"

John shook his head. His mouth hardened into a line. "Not in Socrata Thrace's case. Poor kid. At least the legal stuff is over and she can move on."

"The proceedings were hard for her...those first few hearings that started before her mother's heart attack - when the grand jury decided that there was enough evidence to go to trial."

"But at least she didn't have to go through a complete trial. At least Kara didn't have to relive the abuse over and over again through endless testimony." He looked at Laura and smiled. "And at least she had you."

Laura made a random pattern in the dirt with the toe of her shoe. "They finally finalized the adoption last week. She's mine."

"Congratulations!"

"Thanks. It's a good feeling." Laura gazed at Kara when she spoke. "I couldn't be happier." Her smile did not stop at her lips; it transfixed her entire face into an expression of profound gratitude and joy.

"She's a great kid. Bright. Terrific sense of humor. And too clever for her own good. I can't wait for her to be old enough to have in my class."

Laura nodded and looked at her watch. "I've got to get home and start dinner. Tell Miranda I said hello, will you?"

John smiled back at his friend and colleague. "Will do."

"Kara!" Laura called as she walked over to her daughter. "It's getting late, sweetheart. We have to go."

Kara bounded over to her mother. "Five more minutes," she begged. "Please, Mama."

Mama. It was the first time she had called her that and Laura loved the way it sounded.

Eyes glistening, she could only nod and smile. "Yes. Five more minutes."

* * *

 

"Mom….Mom! You can let go now," laughed Kara.

"I don't want to," Laura protested stubbornly, but she released Kara from the hug. "I can't believe you're going to learn to fly one of those things," Laura added, as she looked dubiously at the Raptor off in the distance.

"Not yet…this is just basic. But eventually….hell, yes!" Her smile was so exuberant that Laura had to smile, too. Slipping her arm around her mother's waist, she gave her one more half-squeeze.

"I'll call you as soon as they allow it."

"You'd better."

"I love you," Laura said, biting back the lump in her throat.

Kara glowed. "I love you, too, Mom."

* * *

 

Laura took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. The tag in the back of her blouse was driving her absolutely crazy and she completely regretted forgetting to cut it out that morning. She indulged in a thorough scratch since no one was around to witness it. With a sigh, she went back to perusing the fiscal report on the spring budget and made another notation in the margin. Laura's phone rang and she picked it up.

"Laura Roslin."

"Sorry to bother you, Madame Secretary. But it's your daughter on line two."

"Oh - thank you, Billy. Please - put her through."

"Helloooo, Madame Secretary," sang Kara.

"Helloooo, Lieutenant Thrace," echoed Laura. They both giggled simultaneously.

"Please tell me that you don't have dinner plans tonight," begged Kara.

Laura tapped her pencil on her desk absently. "Nothing I can't weasel my way out of," she answered. "I'm a politician, remember?"

"Nice, Mom. Speaking of weasels, is that frakker still chasing you around the desk?," asked Kara.

"Oh, not since he found out what the heel of my stiletto felt like slamming onto top of his foot. I told him that the next time he put his hand on my ass, his foot wouldn't be the only part of his body that I squashed. He's been keeping his hands to himself ever since."

"Ouch! I'm proud of you…and he so deserved it."

"Yes, he did."

"Laura Roslin, Secretary of Education, foot-stomper of lecherous old men. This is exactly why the political arena needs you, Mom."

Laura sighed and slipped her shoes off underneath her desk, stretching her legs. "Maybe. So…you want to grab a couple of movies, wine, and popcorn and do our usual thing?" Movie night had become a frequent Friday night tradition when Kara was on shore leave. Laura was often exhausted from the long hours that she was putting in and Kara loved having a chance for some true downtime.

"Not exactly. Mom, are you sitting down?" Kara's voice was breathless with excitement.

"Yes, I'm sitting."

"I'm engaged!"

"You and Lee," Laura smiled.

"Me and Lee," confirmed Kara - athough there was never any question.

"Congratulations! "

"Wait a minute. That was way too easy. Where's the lecture?"

"Kara, you're twenty-three years old. Lee is a great guy. He's a terrific guy with a lot of integrity and he has a strong head on his shoulders. But most of all, it's obvious that he's completely crazy about you."

"Lee wants you to meet his dad and I want his dad to meet you. We're taking you to dinner."

"The famous Admiral Adama that you wax poetic about. Not sure if I'll be able to reconcile the man with the myth," teased Laura.

"You're going to love the Old Man," Kara assured her. "So you'll come?"

"Of course. Name the time and the place."

"Altura. 7:00." Altura was a quaint, upscale restaurant in the city.

"7:00! I've got to run, honey, if I'm going to look even hallway presentable for seven. I'll see you then. Oh - and Kara - I want to hear all about the proposal. I expect details."

"You got it, Mom."


	2. Chapter 2

Laura was logging off her computer and slipping her feet back into her shoes when her intercom buzzed.

"Yes?" Laura said as she bent under her desk to retrieve her right shoe, which had somehow slid quite a bit out of reach of her foot. She sounded irritated and short. She was irritated but not at Billy. Clenching her teeth, she knelt down under the mahogany desk and inched her fingertips over to the fugitive shoe.

Billy sounded flustered and uncertain. "The President would like you to stop by his office before you go." Billy paused. "I think, Madame Secretary, that he meant immediately."

_Of course he did._

Laura made an extra effort to sound pleasant. She liked Billy; he was everything that she had been once, before politics had gotten her into its murky clutches. No matter how noble your intentions were, there were games in the political arena that you just had to play. Laura had learned the hard way that there were certain compromises that were inescapable and that every promise had a price. Maybe it would be different for Billy. Laura hoped so.

"Thank you, Billy. I'll see to it."

Grabbing her purse, Laura stepped out of her office, her heels making a rhythmic tapping on the marble floor. She stopped at Billy's desk before proceeding to Richard's office and glanced at her watch.

"It's after five; it's Friday. Anything on that desk can wait until Monday," she told Billy. Her voice was soft – maternal. There was an empty water bottle on his desk. Laura picked it up and threw it away. It wasn't meant as a reproach; it was a nurturing gesture, the kind of thing that a mother would do entering the room of her son – straightening the clothes in his closet or smoothing the linen on his bed. But Billy hadn't yet figured out how to read the enigmatic Laura Roslin and his face fell. Clearly, his boss thought that he was a slob.

"Any plans for the weekend?" Laura asked cheerfully.

"Going to a hockey game tomorrow…with a few friends." After a long pause, Billy asked tentatively, "You?"

"Kara's in town. We have dinner plans tonight. She and Lee are getting married."

Billy beamed. "Congratulations!"

"Thank you. I'm happy for her. Lee's a brilliant. He's a good person and it's obvious that he loves her very much." Laura looked faraway for a moment, thoughtful. "I'm sorry, Billy, I'd better not keep the President waiting. But please don't wait for me. I mean it. You're only young once. Start your weekend immediately. That's an order." Her smile was sincere, contagious. Billy found himself reciprocating the gesture.

"All right. Goodnight, Madame Secretary."

"Goodnight, Billy. Thank you for all of your help today."

* * *

 

The President's assistant barely gave Laura a glance as she approached his desk. He had that undefinable quality that every leader looks for in an assistant, namely the ability to make himself completely inconspicuous. There was an unspoken understanding between them. This was not the first time that the President of the Twelve Colonies had invited the Secretary of Education into his office – alone and at an unusual hour. David Brenner, the President's long time Chief of Staff, gave the illusion that it was not even remotely out of the ordinary while they both knew that it was.

"He's expecting you; you can go right in."

Laura nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Brenner." Laura gave the door a polite knock even though Richard's Chief-of-Staff deemed it unnecessary. In the name of professionalism and propriety, she believed that it _was_ necessary.

The President was signing a handful of memoranda that he hadn't had time to attend to earlier. He read every word of anything that passed in front of his desk, no matter how inconsequential. He didn't like summaries and debriefings, although they were necessary for some things. Richard Adar liked to be in control and the first prerequisite to power was being in the know. He was a man who liked being informed. The devil is in the details. Adar liked his little idioms almost as much as he liked the expensive Cassari wrist watch he wore or his 120 thread count suits.

"Come on in," Richard said in answer to her knock, without looking up from his paperwork. He did, however, look up as Laura walked toward his desk.

Besides Richard's taste in fine watches and costly suits, he prided himself on being surrounded by the best. He considered Laura Roslin, with her smooth voice and enticingly green eyes, to be the very best of the best. He could still perfectly recall the first time that he'd ever seen her, one of several piano soloists playing classical pieces at a restored Caprican mansion on the west side. She was never more beautiful, he mused, than when she sat down in front of the piano, hands gliding across the keys as she played shimmering scales and perfectly executed trills with an effortless grace that made even the most complicated music seem simple to execute. Besides being beautiful, she was smart, an articulate speaker who could sway people to her way of thinking, a quality that had been underdeveloped when he had met her but that had become even more pronounced with time and experience.

Their on-again, off-again affair would always be too brief, Richard thought now as he watched Laura moving toward him in her impeccably tailored navy blue suit. He had finally gotten her into bed after tragedy had struck her family, when her father and two younger sisters had been hit and killed by a drunk driver while Richard had been campaigning for the presidency. Understandably, she had been completely devastated by the loss. Before that, he had been pursuing her unsuccessfully for years. But she had mistaken his avid interest as a keen professional regard. For all of her intelligence, there was an innocence about her that mingled with her sophistication, and even after all of these years in politics – she was still an idealist at heart. It was part of what made her so irresistible to him. Laura had spoken to him on more than one occasion about how she felt that politics had jaded her, but what she didn't realize was that it really hadn't. She was more savvy, certainly, than she had been twelve years ago, but she was still highly principled. She was principled enough that she had abruptly ended their short-lived but very passionate affair because of Richard's marriage to Lillian, among other reasons that he didn't like to think about. He knew that if she hadn't been so broken up about the loss of her sisters and her father that the affair would likely have never taken place. He realized that he had probably taken advantage of her vulnerability. But Richard was too pragmatic to feel guilty about it. Maybe he had gotten the elusive Laura Roslin by default - but the end result was the same. He had enjoyed every stolen moment that they had spent together.

He wanted her back.

Richard rose as Laura walked toward him. "Forgive me for calling you in so late," he apologized, although he really wasn't sorry. He watched her fidget for a moment with her watch. Richard wondered if she had a date and he felt a potent stab of jealousy.

"Am I keeping you from something, Laura?" he asked kindly; he was the picture of concern.

"Kara's in town. We have dinner plans."

Richard smiled, not because Laura was getting to spend time with Kara, but because she didn't have a date. "Then I'll keep this brief. I know how little time you get to spend with Kara and how precious those moments are."

"Thank you."

"I just wanted to let you know that I let Phil Hawkinson go."

The comment startled Laura, which was exactly what Richard had wanted. He could see the unmasked surprise in her eyes.

"I wish that you would have come to me, Laura, when he was bothering you. I won't tolerate my staff behaving inappropriately." He stepped closer to her, just a fraction of an inch, careful to keep a respectful distance. He had to resist the urge to touch her. He remembered a time when she would have welcomed his touch, and he felt a pang of regret that now she would not.

"I took care of it," Laura insisted with a stubborn shake of her head.

Richard gave her a wistful smile. "Laura, I know how capable you are." He sighed as he knitted his features into an expression of singular distress. "You are very important to me and I just wanted to let you know that I would have taken any complaints that you made very seriously."

"I don't need you to protect me, Mr. President," Laura informed him coolly. "Given our history, there are already enough rumors that you've shown partiality toward –"

"I _am_ partial to you. We've been through a lot together." His voice softened. "And you deserve every accolade that you've received – on your own merits. I understand why you ended things - us - and I would never ask you to compromise your integrity; your principles are admirable. I worry about you - I can't help it. Look," he added with a crack in his voice, "I don't want to make you late for Kara and I know how these after-hours meetings make you nervous. I just needed you to know that – " Richard looked at her with understated longing. "I have your best interests at heart. Shall I walk you out?"

Richard watched her closely. There was a rapid flutter of indecision that flickered across her eyes. Her expression told him exactly what he had wanted to know. She wasn't immune to him, after all. Even after all of this time, she still felt conflicted where he was concerned. He suppressed his satisfied smile. Maybe he'd left his scruples at the door a long time ago but he did care, genuinely, about Laura. Of course, he cared more about himself and always would - but that was beside the point. He wasn't above manipulating her to get her back; in his limited moral compass, it seemed like such a minor indiscretion. With his significant ego in tow, he was certain that he could make her happy. It wasn't as if he didn't care about her. If he played on her sensibilities a little bit here and there, was that so terrible?

"Thank you; I'll just see myself out," said Laura politely. "Enjoy your weekend, Mr. President."

It was only when her back was to him and she couldn't see his face that he allowed his gaze to linger.

* * *

 

Kara and Lee were seated across from Bill Adama at a table for four in a cozy little alcove all by themselves in what was otherwise a very crowded restaurant. Kara had been teasing Lee mercilessly all night that the only reason that they had gotten such a prime seating arrangement was because the hostess was so taken with Lee's "big baby blues." Gauzy lavender curtains adorned the entryway and there was even a fireplace with a warm fire crackling from across the table.

"It was high time I retire," Bill Adama admitted, nodding as Kara motioned toward his glass with the stem of the wine bottle to see whether or not he wanted a refill. He gave a gentle wave when she had filled the glass half way.

"You'll stay in Caprica?" inquired Kara.

"Yes. I'll be teaching a couple of flight mechanics classes at the academy. Not active duty, of course, but enough to keep me out of trouble. Mostly." There was mischief in his voice. "The decommission ceremony for my retirement will be on _Galactica_ next week. You should come."

"I'd like that, sir," smiled Kara.

"Under the circumstances," Bill mused with a little gleam in his azure eyes, "I think that you can drop the 'sir.' I kind of think that 'Dad' has a nice ring to it, although be forewarned that you'll be subject to my fatherly advice."

Lee gave a pointed cough. "I'd stick to the sir if I were you and forgo the paternal meddling," Lee teased his fiancée.

"I never meddle, Kara. Why meddle when coercion is so much more effective?" he asked with a gruff grin as he tipped his wine glass back and took a long sip.

"Good luck with that, Dad," Lee told his father. "As you already know, Kara isn't easily coerced into anything."

"Damn straight," affirmed Kara. "A quality I get from my mother….who is never late," she added peering closely at her watch in the candlelight. Lee sensed her worry and brushed his hand reassuringly over hers.

"Traffic's terrible over here on a Friday," Lee reminded her. "And we did kind of spring this on her. I'm sure she'll be here soon. Never mind….here she comes." Lee suddenly spotted Laura as one of the waiters who had been obstructing his view moved aside.

"Oh, my goodness," I'm so sorry I'm late," apologized Laura Roslin as she approached the table in a flurry of cascading red hair in her elegant fuchsia dress. "The traffic was atrocious." Kara stood up and hugged her mother, whispering a heartfelt, "You look fabulous," in her ear. Laura whispered a quick and quiet, "So do you" as the women separated from their quick hug.

"Good to see you, Laura," Lee said warmly. He embraced her and kissed her cheek.

Bill Adama had stood up as soon as he had realized that Laura had arrived. His first, cursory impression of the woman was that she didn't have the shiny veneer that he had expected to find, given her status as a politician. She had an approachable, down-to-earth quality that was immediately appealing.

Kara tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and smiled exuberantly. "Mom, this is Admiral William Adama—Lee's dad. And this is my mother, Laura Roslin."

"Madame Secretary," Bill said formally as he extended his hand.

"Admiral," Laura smiled. She had a strong handshake, Bill reflected. Solid. Sincere. As soon as their fingers touched, the room seemed to come to a complete standstill. The mundane sounds of the room, snippets of conversation and the clang of silverware against plates, faded away. Laura and Bill ceased breathing for a heartbeat of a second. Two deep blue eyes met another pair of eyes —green-grey, vividly green, like the sea after a storm.

Bill released the breath that he had been holding. "We've met before," he said uncertainly.

"Have we?" Laura countered, just as tentatively. Lee and Kara exchanged an amused glance as they watched their parents' awkward exchange. "Please—just Laura," Laura added.

Bill nodded, his hand still clasping hers. It took him another moment to find his voice. "Bill."

Bill suddenly realized that he hadn't let go of the woman's hand and felt like a colossal idiot. Great first impression, Bill. What in the world had just come over him? Of course he had never seen her before. What an utterly stupid thing to say! He relinquished his grip on her hand and tried to recover a bit of his gentlemanly dignity as he waited politely for her to sit down. Kara had to cue her mother with an inconspicuous little tug on her dress. Without missing a beat, Laura sat down gracefully with a tiny hum. Once the ladies were both seated, Bill and Lee followed suit.

"What can I get you to drink, Laura?" offered Bill.

"A glass of Chardonnay. But you don't have to get up; we can wait until the waiter comes back."

"It's no trouble," replied Bill as he rose from the table and made his way over to the bar.

"I'm so glad you could make it tonight – and on such short notice," smiled Lee after his father had gotten up.

Laura smiled. "I wouldn't have missed this for the world," she assured her future son-in-law.


	3. Chapter 3

Offering to get a glass of wine for Laura served two purposes. It was a considerate and welcoming gesture and it gave Bill a moment to clear his head. The memory of the warmth and feel of Laura's elegantly tapered hand in his callused one lingered tantalizingly. What he felt was an alien feeling that he could not readily rationalize. This wasn't simply an ordinary physical attraction; he'd felt that plenty of times before. This was something different – captivating, but also almost too much, like the scent of an exotic but overwhelmingly sweet incense freshly burning. Underneath the irrevocable pull that he felt toward her, there was something else, a painful ache that was an inexplicable mixture of sorrow and regret. None of it made any sense to Bill and he decided that his feelings were merely a peculiar manifestation of what his longtime friend and colleague Saul Tigh frequently accused him of: he spent too much time alone these days and needed to, as Tigh bluntly put it, "get laid." Tigh's crude analysis wasn't even the half of it. Bill hadn't had any serious relationships since his divorce. He glanced down furtively at the wedding band that he still wore and closed his eyes for a moment as he paid for Laura's glass of wine. The thought of allowing a woman to get close to him again was completely unnerving. Sex was the easy part. Not that he should be thinking about any of this in relation to Lee's future mother-in-law. Whatever strange spell had come over him, Bill decided that he'd better snap the hell out of it – and fast.

"Here you go, Laura," Bill said as he placed the glass of Chardonnay in front of her.

"Thank you," answered Laura, looking up at him for a fleeting moment. Bill's seat was next to hers and when he sat down, his shoulder brushed against Laura's arm as he pushed his chair back in.

"I'm sorry I – lost my train of thought," Laura apologized to Kara and Lee but she was looking at Bill.

"The apartment," prompted Lee.

"Oh, yes. A new building is opening up – about a mile from my place, in fact. High ceilings. Great lighting. View of the park."

"Mom, I _like_ my apartment," said Kara firmly but not unkindly.

Laura sighed unhappily. "I know." Kara rented a loft on the west side, an artsy section of Caprica famous for its myriad of painters and musicians, struggling actors, would-be dancers, and enthusiastic journalists hoping to break into the business. Kara simply liked the energy and ever-throbbing pulse that beat constantly in this little Bohemian corner of the city. Unfortunately, the crime rate was high and Laura worried. "No pressure," Laura added softly.

Kara studied her mother's concerned face and leaned over to her, lightly pressing her forehead against Laura's, a shared gesture that had been singularly theirs since Kara was a little girl. "I'll look at it," she relented.

Laura smiled. "Thank you."

Kara grinned. "I won't remind you that you had a little studio over in my same area when you were – what –21? 22?"

"I was 23," Laura amended. She took a sip of her wine. "And the neighborhood was different then."

Kara tilted her head toward Bill and Lee and lowered her voice as if she were confiding something very secret, "Her lock was broken and every so often – "

"Kara," interrupted Laura, "I'm sure the admiral doesn't want to hear about this."

"Oh, on the contrary," Bill planted his hand against his chin, "the admiral _does_."

Laura looked from Kara to Bill. "Don't encourage her," she snapped lightly.

"Every so often," Kara continued, "the neighbor below her would get completely smashed and fall asleep on her couch _in his underwear_."

"He was harmless," Laura clarified. "It was sad, really. He'd get so drunk he'd forget which apartment was his and just crash on my sofa."

Lee was grinning. "But it was her upstairs neighbors that were the real problem," he explained.

"How many people have you told this story to?" Laura asked her daughter with an exasperated sigh.

"It's funny!" giggled Kara.

"The couple above me was in their mid-forties. He worked on films – painting movie sets, props, other studio related art projects. She worked at a hotel front desk. They were ideal neighbors because they never complained about my piano practicing. But, unfortunately, they were very…." Laura searched for a polite way to say it. "…amorous."

"They frakked constantly," explained Kara with a wide smile.

"Laura's light fixtures would vibrate," Lee chimed in.

"And they made cracks in the ceiling!" exclaimed Kara.

Laura laughed. "It was pretty awful. There was a coffee shop across the way that was open all night; I can't tell you how many times I'd slip out of the apartment just to get away from the constant….thumping."

Bill smiled and Laura immediately liked the way his eyes crinkled up at the corners. It softened his features and she smiled back. The conversation flowed easily and eventually came back to Lee and Kara's future plans. Laura got the distinct impression that Bill wanted the couple to wait until Lee finished law school before getting married. His laughing blue eyes were completely forgotten as he launched into a thinly veiled narrative on the benefits of taking things slowly. Laura firmly believed in allowing Kara and Lee to forge their own path and Bill's unsolicited advice, no matter how well-intentioned, irritated her.

"I'm sure that you and Lee will set a date that's right for you," Laura interrupted Bill finally, directly addressing her daughter.

"I'm sure they will, too," Bill responded, his gaze intent on Laura. "Kara still has another couple of years of service and Lee's finishing up law school. My point was simply that they don't have to rush. But, of course, they can decide for themselves." Bill leaned back slightly in his chair. He had married Carolanne – too young, too soon. Neither of them had known what they had wanted, not really. He wanted something different for Lee and for Kara. It wasn't that he didn't like Kara – on the contrary, he had grown to love her, almost like a daughter. But he wanted them both to be sure and to be ready. He sure as hell hadn't been.

"That's very magnanimous of you, Bill," Laura said, "to grant them permission to decide for themselves." Her tone was neutral. Her message wasn't.

There was a sudden awkward lull in the conversation. Laura observed Lee giving his father a quick, pleading look from across the table. Bill returned the gesture with a silent and begrudging huff. Laura wondered if Bill was a typical military parent; she had observed the type before with her students: controlling and opinionated. Even when well-meaning, they often had a tendency to push their kids away with their rigid approach to parenting.

Laura's speculation was interrupted by an enthusiastic male voice exclaiming, "Bill!"

A man with graying silver-blonde hair stood by their table, smiling broadly. His smile widened when he saw Lee. "And Lee! It's been years. How are you?"

Paul Hutchins had been Lee and Zak's swim coach back in high school and was an old family friend. Bill and Lee both stood up to greet him. "I'm doing fine, Paul," Bill answered in his husky baritone. "This is Kara Thrace, Lee's fiancée, and this is Laura Roslin, her mother. We were just celebrating their engagement."

Paul greeted the two women with a friendly smile. "Congratulations!" he exclaimed. "How's Zak doing?" he asked, inquiring after Bill's younger son. There was a slight pause before Bill answered.

"Zak was killed in a racing accident three years ago," Bill said quietly.

"Oh my goodness." Paul's expression shifted from bright and beaming to stricken in a matter of seconds. "I'm so, so sorry."

Bill coughed. "Thank you. How's Sylvia?" he asked.

"She's fine. She's in the ladies room. It's our twenty-fifth anniversary. I'm sure she'll want to stop over and say hello."

"We'd like that," said Lee.

"Well, I don't want to interrupt your dinner," Paul said with forced cheerfulness. "Nice meeting you Kara…and Laura." With a smile and a wave, he went to go find his wife.

After Paul was out of sight, Bill downed the remainder of his gin and tonic in a few short gulps. The glass was ¾ full. "Another drink, anyone?" Bill asked as he stood up in one abrupt motion.

Laura's wine glass was empty but she shook her head curtly. "No, thank you." Kara and Lee also declined. Bill shrugged and disappeared in the crowd as he headed to the bar.

"It's still really difficult for him," Lee sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Of course it is," Laura nodded. Her eyes were warm and sympathetic as she looked at Lee. "You have nothing to apologize for."

Bill returned shortly after with a gin and tonic for himself and a glass of Chardonnay for Laura. He placed it in front of her. Laura narrowed her eyes and was about to icily inform Bill that she had not asked for another glass of wine when Kara gave her mother a gentle nudge under the table. Laura glared at her daughter and proceeded to fume silently at Bill. An absurd thought crossed Bill's mind as he felt the chill in Laura's gaze. Even angry, she was an exceptionally beautiful woman. He wanted to start the evening over again but he didn't know how to extricate himself from the shaky ground that they now stood on so precariously.

Lee filled the troublesome silence by engaging Laura in a lively conversation about some three-hundred year old classical piano manuscripts that were recently discovered in a museum archive in Picon. Lee had a way about him, Bill reflected, always the diplomat – an innate ability that allowed him to smoothly soothe ruffled feathers. Lee certainly hadn't gotten that quality from him, or from Carolanne for that matter. Unlike Lee, Kara was much more apt to be direct and blunt than diplomatic. This marked difference in approach would either prove an asset to the couple or a disaster. Sometimes Bill felt that he understood Kara far more than he did his own loftily idealistic son. You never had to guess what Kara was feeling; it was always right there bubbling or seething at the surface.

The temporary ease in the tension at the table was short lived when the clasp on Laura's necklace suddenly came undone and the simple gold chain slid off of her neck. She almost caught it - but not quite in time, and it landed on the floor between her chair and Bill's. Bill bent down to retrieve the necklace. When he bobbed back up to place it in her hand, he accidentally bumped the full glass of white wine and watched in horror as the Secretary of Education ended up with a lapful of Chardonnay.

"I'm so sorry," apologized Bill as he offered her his linen napkin with an expression of sincere supplication.

"It's fine," Laura replied. She stood up. "I'm going to just…" Laura made a generalized gesture with her hands to indicate that she was going to exit the table. "….ladies room. Excuse me."

"I'll go with you," said Kara as she began to pull out her chair.

"No, no." Laura shook her head emphatically. Her tone was brusque; her resolve was final. "I'll just be a few moments. Really, it's nothing."

Laura walked gracefully into the ladies room as if she were not covered in wine. After a great deal of blotting, she was able to get her dress from a state of saturation to dampness but she could do nothing about the discoloration from the stain. There was a cream colored cashmere shawl in her car that she could wear to hide the sins of the wine, although she'd still spend the rest of the evening smelling like a brewery. Maybe she was being too hard on Bill. Just because he'd had a couple of extra drinks after being forced to remember his deceased son didn't necessarily make him an alcoholic. And his caution about Kara and Lee rushing into marriage could simply be the genuine concern of a loving parent and not an attack on her daughter or a sign that he was controlling. Her encouraging Kara to move into an apartment building closer to her could just as easily be misconstrued. The evening was about Kara and Lee, not about whether or not she liked the admiral. What was it about him that caused her to keep thinking about him anyway? As she proceeded out to the parking lot to her car, Laura decided that she would try to salvage this largely dreadful evening.

When Laura had been gone for a little over ten minutes, Kara announced that she was going to go check on her. At that moment, their waiter told Kara that her mother had asked him to let her know that she was running out to her car for her shawl and would be right back.

"I'm still going to see how she's doing," said Kara. Their dinner had just arrived.

"You sit down and enjoy this great meal with Lee," insisted Bill, standing up. "I'll check on your mother. Bill watched Kara and Lee exchange an uneasy glance. "You two could give me a better vote of confidence," he added wryly with a dash of his usual humor. "Look at it this way. I can't make it any worse, can I?" Lee opened his mouth to say something but Bill quickly interrupted him. "Don't answer that."

Outside, Bill discovered that it must have been raining. The black asphalt was slick, although the sky was now clear and full of stars. It must have been a passing shower. He scanned the parking lot for Laura, walking down several aisles. A few minutes later, her distinctive voice carried in his direction. If she had seemed cool toward him earlier, this was a whole new dimension of Laura Roslin's ire.

"You are in absolutely no condition to drive, sir," Laura was saying in a clipped, authoritative tone.

"Listen, lady," a male voice slurred, "get out of my way and mind your frakking business. I'm fine." Bill double timed it to the location that their voices were coming from. Laura was standing next to an unfamiliar black vehicle, holding onto the door while a man –who was twice her size and quite obviously drunk – was attempting to get behind the wheel.

"If you're not sensible enough to consider your own safety," she continued curtly, "then think about the lives of the people that you are endangering with your recklessness." She softened her tone but the animosity lingered. "I'll call you a cab." Bill decided right then and there that Kara's mother was insane. Trying to rationalize an argument with an intoxicated person in such a pragmatic manner was not the action of a sane person. Bill didn't have much time to consider further as he watched the man forcibly push Laura away, slide into his vehicle, shut the door, and rev up the engine. Adrenaline coursed through Bill's body as he watched the disoriented driver swerve as he made the pull out of his parking space.

He was headed straight for Laura.

Bill rushed toward her and knocked her out of the path of the car, the two of them landing on the damp ground as the man skidded off into the night.

"Did you hit your head?" Bill asked desperately, easing his weight off of her body. She was shaking.

"Did you get his license plate?" asked Laura urgently, completely ignoring his question.

"Did I get his…no, I didn't." Bill peered at her with an incredulous expression. "Are you all right?" he asked again, more gruffly this time.

"I'm fine," she snapped. Bill helped Laura up and saw her wince as she stood.

"You don't look fine," he exploded. "What the frak were you thinking? He could have killed you." Bill's dark blue eyes were wide with frustration and concern as he helped her stand. She began limping stubbornly toward the restaurant.

"Lean on me," Bill demanded, easily catching up with her and slipping an arm around her waist. Laura complied but Bill suspected that it was only out of necessity. She was the most infuriating, exasperating, and completely incomprehensible woman that he had ever met.

They entered the restaurant lobby and Bill pointed to a chair. "Sit," he ordered. Laura opened her mouth to protest but Bill stopped her.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Madame Secretary. If you don't tell me right now what hurts, I will simply call the rescue and let the paramedics deal with you."

"I twisted my ankle," Laura said with pointedly false sweetness. Bill grabbed another chair and slid it in front of Laura. "Your right one?" He could already see the swelling.

"Yes, but it's already feeling better." Bill touched her ankle very gingerly. "Does that hurt?" he asked with a disarming softness that utterly surprised her.

"No."

"It's probably just a sprain," Bill told her as he lifted her ankle and gently placed her foot on the other chair. His hands were warm. "We'll get some ice on it and you'll keep it elevated for a bit and then we'll see how you do. Are you amenable to that?"

"Yes," sighed Laura impatiently. "Do I have a choice?"

Bill smiled at her. "Not really. I'm going to get you some ice. Stay put." He was about to step away to retrieve the ice but he stopped for a moment. "I really am very sorry about ruining your dress," he apologized.

"Well," said Laura, "considering the fact that you might have just saved my life, I suppose I can overlook it." A fragile wisp of a smile played about the corners of her mouth.

"I'll be right back."

Bill hoped that the momentary truce would last – at least long enough for him to figure out what to make of Laura Roslin.


	4. Chapter 4

Kara was helping her mother put breakfast dishes into the dishwasher. It was the morning after their dinner with Lee and the admiral. Laura's ankle was better. Bill had made sure that she kept it elevated and iced during dinner. The little alcove that their table was situated in gave them privacy and plenty of room to maneuver. The mood of the remainder of the evening had oddly improved after Laura's near-accident. Nothing like a brush with death to give everyone perspective. Laura laughed with morbid humor as she dried off the inside of a bowl that had turned over inside the dishwasher and was still wet, before placing it in the cupboard.

"What are you giggling about?" Kara asked, teasingly nudging her mother with her elbow.

"I was just thinking about how crazy Bill must think I am for trying to detain that drunk last night. He doesn't know about your grandfather and your aunts, does he?"

"I don't think so," said Kara. "Lee knows but I never mentioned it to the Old Man."

"You know," Laura smiled ruefully, "I hope that you never ever refer to me as 'the Old Woman.'"

"It's a term of endearment," Kara assured her.

"Mmmmm," Laura hummed in a tone of disapproval. "Nevertheless."

Kara was putting the orange juice back in the refrigerator when she noticed an appointment card attached to the freezer with a magnet for Laura's oncologist. Kara stopped in her tracks.

"Are you all right?" she asked her mother.

"What?" Laura turned her head around.

Kara motioned with her head toward the little card.

Laura turned back to the dishwasher. "Oh, that. Everything's fine, honey."

"Mom, look at me."

After the deaths of her father and her sisters, Laura had fallen into a deep depression. She had lost weight rapidly and she kept missing important appointments, like her mammogram. It was only because of Kara's repeated reminders that she had finally gone for the screening. They had caught the cancer just before it had metastasized but Laura had had to undergo several courses of painful treatments and drug therapy before she was in the clear. Kara had probably saved her life, one of the many ways in which her daughter had been such a gift.

Laura turned to face Kara. "It's an annual follow-up – "

Kara forcefully pulled her mother into a tight embrace. "Oh, Kara…."

"Swear it." Kara prompted her, against her hair.

"I promise," said Laura. She squeezed her daughter.

Kara released her. "You need to tell me these things." Her voice was thick with emotion.

"Kara, I told you. If I get any kind of significant health news, I will tell you." Laura had not been forthcoming when she had been diagnosed with cancer. Kara was away for training and school and she hadn't wanted to burden her. When she had found out that her mother had been keeping her illness a secret, Kara had been livid. She had come home on an unanticipated leave to surprise her mother, only to find her pale, thin, and losing her trademark red hair from the radiation treatments. It had been a terrible shock and Kara could not readily forget it.

"You can't ever do that to me again," added Kara fiercely. "You can't."

"I won't. I promise. This appointment is a good thing. I'm still cancer free. Dr. Corel is so pleased, in fact, with my recovery, that he wants to use my case in a study – which is why I have the appointment."

Kara frowned. "All right. I just worry."

"I'm fine." Laura exhaled. She grabbed a sponge and began wiping down the counter.

Kara watched her mother continue her cleaning. When she spoke again, it was with a lighter tone. "You'd better be. Admiral Adama is going to be living in Caprica after he retires. I'll send him on reconnaissance missions to give me regular reports on your welfare."

Laura rolled her eyes. "Aren't I supposed to be the parent here? Shouldn't I be checking up on you?" She began scrubbing the kitchen counter feverishly at the mention of Bill.

Kara eyed her mother's sudden vigorous attention to the cleanliness of the countertop with an amused look. "You know, they do say opposites attract…"

"I am absolutely _not_ attracted to the admiral," Laura assured her daughter as her forceful push on the sponge caused it to pop upward and hit her in the forehead. "He's not my type. Besides, divorced people that wear their wedding rings are clearly not over their previous wives," Laura stated matter-of-factly. She'd already engaged in one messy affair with a married man. She certainly didn't need a divorced one that still had unresolved feelings for his ex-wife.

Kara retrieved the sponge from the sink where it had finally landed. Very slowly, she handed it to her mother, slow enough that she could meet her eyes in the process. "You noticed his wedding ring."

Laura testily grabbed the sponge from Kara and resumed her cleaning, turning away abruptly. "I wasn't looking for it, if that's what you're implying. It was rather hard to miss with his hand clenching a wine glass half the night." Her tone was more accusatory than she had intended.

"For the record," stated Kara as she leaned against the counter, "the admiral can't stand his ex-wife and vice versa. I think the ring is more a gesture of him honoring his family. He's kind of traditional; I think that he would have stayed married just for the sake of Lee and Zak."

"Not exactly a healthy attitude," Laura commented.

Kara shrugged. "I'm just speculating." She smiled widely at her mother. "You could ask him yourself."

Laura playfully flicked her wet fingers at her daughter, sprinkling her with droplets of water. "I think I'll pass."

* * *

Richard Adar sipped his tall latte, which had been made with the most expensive coffee in Caprica, topped with frothy foam and dusted with cinnamon. The caffeine had done little to ease his boredom or his preoccupation with Laura. He had been trying to devise a plan all morning to get her alone again, only this time for a longer duration, while Brenner droned on and on about his upcoming schedule. Leaning back in his chair and drumming his fingers against the edge of his mahogany desk, Adar only half-listened.

…"and then on Thursday there's the decommissioning ceremony for _Galactica_. You can stay overnight on _Colonial One_ and still make your meeting with the Quorum in the morning. You remember Admiral Adama? Laura Roslin's daughter is engaged to his son, Leland."

Adar suddenly snapped to attention.

"She never mentioned that to me," Adara murmured, speaking more to himself than to Brenner.

"Mr. President?"

"I'm sure that a little sojourn on _Galactia_ would pique Ms. Roslin's interest, given her daughter's association with the ship. I'll stay aboard _Galactica_. Ask Madame Secretary to accompany me."

"The ship is going to be terribly crowded, Mr. President. You and Ms. Roslin would likely be far more comfortable aboard _Colonial One_."

Richard slid his fingers along the length of his tie, smoothing the already pristine fabric. "Indeed. It would be most inconvenient if Ms. Roslin and I had to share quarters." He looked meaningfully at his personal assistant. "I'm sure that you will be careful to make appropriate arrangements."

Brenner nodded his understanding. "As you wish, Mr. President."

* * *

_Laura was suspended above a vast field of water, dotted with strange pink flowers with feathered petals, expanding across a wide vista where the sun painted the surrounding landscape in colors of russet and gold. The pink flowers turned into flamingos as the land drew closer to embrace her. Her eyes were so heavy as she fought to keep them open. A voice of gravel and velvet murmured incomprehensible words but she was content merely to listen to the soothing inflection and cadence of the sound, even if the meaning eluded her._

_"So much life," she heard herself murmur, the words heavy on her tongue. It was difficult to breathe and yet - she was unafraid._

Laura's alarm clock blared loudly and she woke up from the dream with a start. And as dreams often do, the images faded into static before she could capture even a single one into her memory.

Kara had been completely amused when Laura had called her to inform her that she was going to be attending the decommissioning ceremony for _Galactica_ , accompanied by the president. Laura was neither amused nor enthusiastic. She was given almost no notice whatsoever and had to scramble around last minute trying to get everything that required her attention finished. She was grateful for Billy. He helped her meet her deadlines and even stayed later with her so that she could finish a hefty stack of correspondence before the morning. She had insisted on taking him with her for the journey, although Brenner had given her a hard time.

As Laura descended the ladder that led to the heart of _Galactica_ , she was once again grateful for Billy's expertise. He had tactfully advised her to wear pant suits and now she understood why. He had also recommended practical shoes but there were just some things a lady couldn't relinquish. Attractive shoes were one of Laura's admitted vanities and she refused to traipse around in sensible shoes, no matter how practical.

Bill had expected the President but he had not been informed about Laura until that morning. Her long, wavy red hair was unmistakable and he couldn't help but notice the stilettos - only a few days after her incident with the drunk driver when she had probably sprained her ankle. This Laura was a slightly different creature than the one he'd met at Altura. Sleek in her elegant and expensively tailored suit, she possessed the aura of a practiced politician, gracious and smiling. The cameras loved her. She probably got more press than Adar did. One of the press asked him, Laura, Kara, and Lee to pose for a photo; Kara and Lee's engagement had apparently been made public. Bill found it a bit unnerving and couldn't help wondering if it served some political agenda. He'd never trusted politicians.

Adar seemed to be everywhere Laura was, Bill noted. He hovered. He touched her constantly, nothing inappropriate but the man seemed to always have a hand on her, fingertips brushing against her arm, the flat of his palm on the small of her back. Bill was acutely aware of it. Rumor had it that Richard Adar had a roaming eye and a weakness for beautiful women. He wondered if that included Laura Roslin and he felt a flare of an emotion that he would not dare to name course momentarily through his body.

Laura noticed Bill as soon as she descended onto _Galactica's_ massive decks. The ship was imposing and Bill didn't just command it, he seemed to be a part of it. He seemed so much more military now in his dress blues and Laura could well imagine how intimidating he could be if he so chose. She wondered what kind of a leader he was. Was he fair and just or unyielding and uncompromising? Kara had always spoken so highly of him, with respect, and even affection. Laura attempted to conjure a an image of Bill smiling as he had smiled the night of their dinner with Lee and Kara, but the image just wouldn't come. Bill glanced at Richard and his expression seemed almost - sour. Laura decided that he would make an indomitable ally or a formidable enemy.

She wasn't sure yet which he was to her.


	5. Chapter 5

To Laura _, Galactica_ felt cold and dim with its seemingly endless monochrome corridors that stretched out in all directions. Everything looked the same. She wondered how anyone on the ship knew where they were going; it was like being in a hall of mirrors, without the magic. One section was merely a sterile and gleaming reflection of another. There was a constant hum from the engines, a bland white noise that never ceased its ghostlike hum. Despite the large crowd that had turned out for the decommissioning ceremony, Laura found the ship oddly lonely. The feeling was only magnified by Richard's presence. She had so meticulously avoided being near him in any personal capacity since their she had ended the relationship. Their affair was tangled into the emotional upheaval and grief that had surrounded her family's car accident and inextricably woven into the memories of her cancer. She had a bad habit of lapsing back into old patterns where Richard was concerned, especially in moments of vulnerability. It was not a behavior that she was particularly proud of – or eager to repeat.

The audience was still and attentive during Bill's speech. He had a commanding way about him that held his listeners' complete focus. Laura observed that there wasn't even a single pair of eyes in her vicinity that were wandering, except perhaps hers – for just a moment – as she watched Bill's effect on the rapt crowd. As a speaker, Bill was almost gruffly direct. He got right to the heart of the matter without prevarication or pretense. He also had that distinctive quality that a charismatic speaker has of making the listener feel that they are the one and only person that he is addressing. The Cylon war, Bill explained, was a permanent scar on the past of humanity that people wanted to brush under the rug and forget. Bill spoke about the importance of remembering – so that history does not repeat itself, so that we learn from our mistakes and strive to do better. "We must learn more about who we are, and more importantly, about whom we want to become as we press forward." Laura appreciated not only the truth and simplicity of the message – but also the mere fact that Bill was daring enough to address it. Just because there was peace between the Cylons and the humans didn't mean that it was an easy peace. It wasn't. Some wounds won't ever completely heal. His speech hit her on a personal level as well; she didn't want to slip into old habits with Richard. She would be fooling herself to pretend that the temptation wasn't still there. But maybe by admitting it she could finally rise above it.

To Richard's irritation, it was Billy and not to him that Laura turned to, after Bill had finished speaking, to comment on a couple of things that the admiral had said and to inquire on how Billy was finding _Galactica_. Although he knew that her interest was maternal, that of a colleague and mentor, he still didn't like it. He had, after all, orchestrated the whole affair of getting Laura there and he wanted her all to himself. It had been too long.

Brenner leaned over and whispered nonchalantly in his ear, "Mr. President, they'd like you to start the receiving line."

Richard nodded and glanced once more at the Secretary of Education who was now whispering something else to Billy while they both looked at the admiral. The president sighed, put on his most polished smile, and walked over to congratulate Bill Adama.

"Admiral Adama, congratulations on your retirement. And on behalf of my entire administration, I'd like to extend my sincere gratitude for your many years of exemplary service."

Bill nodded and smiled. "Thank you, sir."

Richard shook Bill's hand and the two men posed for a photo. Afterwards, the president was escorted to a secure location before the festivities began.

Laura was next in line. "Admiral Adama," she said softly, tilting her head slightly; Bill liked the way that he could not only see her smile but hear it in her voice. It wasn't affected either. It was sincere.

"Madame Secretary."

"I thought we were on a first name basis, Bill," Laura remarked lightly.

"We were…until we weren't," he grinned, and his answering smile came from someplace deep within his core, making his eyes crinkle up at the corners.

"Mmmmm," she agreed with a soft nod. "My fault?"

"It's all right, Laura, I forgive you." Bill realized he was inadvertently flirting with her. Maybe not so inadvertently. _Why_ was he flirting with her? But more importantly, he wondered, as she observed him with those spectacular green eyes of hers - was she flirting with _him?_

"Congratulations, Bill." Her voice jostled his thoughts.

And her hand was suddenly in his again. Oh, he liked it – too much. Many seconds passed as they stared at one another. Finally, the pair finally disengaged from their handshake but it was an awkward moment as their eyes lagged behind, continuing to latch onto one another even though their hands had separated. Laura wanted to tell Bill something important about his speech. Bill wanted to say something more interesting than a bland thank you for coming. But instead, they merely gazed mutely at one another with a mixture of bewilderment and barely suppressed amusement. Bill had never been so puzzled by his reaction to a woman in his life while Laura wondered what it was about William Adama that made her feel so perpetually uncomposed. Whatever inexplicable spark passed between them that first night when they had initially met at Lee and Kara's engagement dinner, it had not dissipated. If anything, it had only become more potent during this second meeting.

Thankfully, Lee saved the day. He clasped Laura's arm and pulled her gently over to him as he whispered in here ear, "Kara's just over there, Laura," he smiled, gesturing with his head toward Kara who was grinning and waving madly at her mother with an expression that clearly read, _What just happened with you and Adama?_

"Don't you dare ask," Laura said when she reached Kara and enfolded her daughter in a soft hug.

Kara giggled mischievously. Her eyes glittered. "Won't ask; won't tell. I thought that Lee was going to have to put out a fire." She raised an arched eyebrow at her flustered mother.

"Very funny," Laura seethed. "It was all of those camera flashes," she explained. "They can be so… distracting."

"Sure it was. I mean – you're _so_ _unaccustomed_ to them."

"Kara – "

"Okay, okay," laughed Kara. "Let's go get this boring dinner thing over with so we can get to the real fun." She and Lee steered Laura toward the festivities.

"Madame Secretary –"

Laura turned to see Billy waving at her wearing a stricken expression. Standing next to him was Richard's assistant, Mr. Brenner who wore an especially sour expression.

"You two go ahead," Laura advised Kara and Lee. "I'll be in in a few minutes."

"I'll make sure the admiral saves you a dance," giggled Kara as she latched onto her fiancé and widened her eyes at her mother.

Laura ignored her. But Kara's playful teasing was forgotten when she looked at Billy's serious face.

"Something wrong?" Laura asked.

Billy opened his mouth to respond but he was interrupted by Brenner.

"Everything's fine, Madame Secretary," Mr. Brenner assured her. "For security reasons, you will be staying aboard _Galactica_ rather than returning to Colonial One. We'll settle everything after the celebration. Nothing to be concerned about. Truly. Billy, you go on ahead. I'll escort Ms. Roslin inside."

Billy made no movements to proceed. Instead, he looked at Laura.

"It's all right, Billy. Enjoy the party; I'll see you shortly," she assured him.

Billy nodded. "I'll be just inside."

Laura smiled. "Thank you, Billy."

Brenner watched the young man walk away. "You do have a knack for attracting devoted followers, Ms. Roslin."

Laura turned sharply to face the president's Chief of Staff. "What's going on? My daughter is on this ship. If _Galactica_ isn't safe…."

Brenner sighed. "We are quite safe. Mr. Keikeya merely misunderstands."

"And what exactly does Mr. Keikeya misunderstand, Mr. Brenner?"

Brenner sighed. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Adar had wanted to catch Laura off guard; it was supposed to look like an oversight. If Billy hadn't overheard Brenner discussing things with the liason from _Galactica_ , he could have pretended that with the crowded ship, it was merely an error - her having to share quarters with the president. But Brenner knew that Laura Roslin wasn't stupid so he opted for discreet honesty. "Mr. Keikeya didn't realize that your change of accommodations had nothing to do with a security breach but rather with the personal wishes of the President." Brenner regarded her meaningfully.

Laura understood. Richard wanted to be alone with her and he had asked Mr. Brenner to move her into his quarters. He wasn't there for the decommissioning ceremony. Richard was there for _her_.

"Yes well – that will be impossible," fumed Laura. "If the ship is, as you say, unexpectedly overcrowded – then I'll stay with my daughter. No need to inconvenience the president. You may tell him that I appreciate his hospitality but I have made other arrangements."

"As you wish, Madame Secretary." Brenner bowed his head officiously and strode down the corridor.

Laura was still seething when she arrived at the celebration. She was so furious at Richard that she couldn't even look at him. To make matters worse, she was seated right next to him, and this regrettable seating arrangement made it impossible for her to completely ignore him as she was seated at a table with military and other political dignitaries. Bill Adama sat across from her. Laura plastered a shining smile on her face and played the part of politician and happy mother-in-law-to-be while inwardly, she struggled against a mixture of anger and self-reproach.

Richard knew Laura well enough to realize that beneath her smiling veneer, she was upset. After the second round of drinks, and after he'd danced with a couple of other women, lest he look like he was singling out the pretty Secretary of Education, he escorted Laura to the dance floor.

"Everything all right?" he asked, leaning toward her ear.

"No, it isn't," she flared. "You deliberately – "

" – not here," Richard cautioned. "At least let me apologize." He felt her stiffen. "Laura, please….meet me in the observation room in five. Yates will escort you." Yates was one of the men who handled Richard's security.

It was easy to slip away unnoticed from the bustling party. The observation room turned out to be Laura's favorite part of _Galactica_. The wide windows afforded a view of the stars. They glittered silver against the stark black endlessness of space and somehow they made her feel less alone. Richard was leaning against the easternmost wall when she entered.

He motioned his head toward the view, his face still in profile. "It's pretty magnificent, isn't it?" he breathed.

Laura sighed, refusing to get lost in the scenery. "What do you want, Richard?"

He turned to face her then, looking at her squarely in that intent, magnetic way of his. "I don't think you have any idea how much I've missed you." He shifted, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Why can't we just go back to the way things were?"

"Because we can't."

"That isn't an answer." He took a few steps toward her.

"You'll have my resignation on your desk in the morning."

Richard stopped. He looked startled. It wasn't a card that he had expected her to play. He frowned. "With an election year coming up? Laura…." He took her hand into both of his. "I need you."

Laura pulled her hand away. "I won't do this anymore, Richard." She swallowed. "I can't." It would be so easy to simply give in. Richard was and always had been a shining distraction from the stifling loneliness that had seeped in when Kara was away, after the drunk driver had taken her father and her sisters. The cancer had only made things worse, a terrible reminder of what she'd been through with her mother and that inevitable, irrevocable loss. Laura had half hoped in some deep, secret part of herself that maybe it was a battle that she wouldn't win. If Kara hadn't pulled her back – she probably wouldn't have.

"Do you know who Brenner thinks should run for vice-president with me?" Richard continued, not missing a beat.

Laura turned to go, ignoring him.

Richard knew that his next words would stop her in her tracks so he made no motion to detain her.

"You, Laura."


	6. Chapter 6

Lee nodded repeatedly as one of his father's colleagues droned on exuberantly over Lee's choice of law school and the benefit of his military experience rounding out his background. "You know – the military needs lawyers." He clapped Lee on the back good naturedly. "Just something for you to think about." Kara listened to Lee's deftly polite response. He always seemed to know just what to say under any circumstances. Socially, Kara was all sharp angles and irregular indentations while Lee was like a polished piece of stone – not forged by artifice or craft - but through the chance whims of nature. It was that easy sincerity that won people over. Of course, those amazingly blue eyes and dimpled smile didn't hurt either. He could just as easily have been a politician as a lawyer, reflected Kara, as she glanced uneasily again at her mother's empty chair.

Laura had not been the same since the cancer. But, really, it had begun even before that. She had lost too many loved ones in far too short a space of time. Laura's mother had faced a long battle against her own cancer but the disease had cut her life short, despite her valiant efforts. And then just a couple of years later, the drunk driver took away Laura's younger sisters and her father in one fell swoop. Kara had grown up in a house full of music. After the accident, Laura's piano had fallen eerily silent. Her mother blamed it on tendonitis in her left wrist but Kara knew that it was a flimsy lie. It had never stopped her mother from playing before. Instead, Laura poured herself into politics with a fierce tenacity that had kept her mind numbingly busy and constantly working. Laura insisted that she was "fine." She even managed to occasionally make it look good – but Kara observed, sadly, that there was an essential spark that her mother had always possessed that had gone prematurely dark.

And Kara didn't know how to fix it.

"Stop fidgeting," Lee whispered teasingly in her ear once his father's colleague disappeared into the crowd, giving him and Kara a rare moment of privacy in what had been a very busy evening. Lee followed Kara's gaze.

"I'm sure she's fine," he promised reassuringly as he tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. When Kara continued to frown, Lee gave her hand a squeeze. "Would it help if I went to go check on her?"

Kara sighed. "It's that drunk from the parking lot the night that we were at the restaurant. It reopened a lot of scars that never healed in the first place. And she's looked unhappy all night long. Would you? If I go, it'll just put her on the defensive but you can be smooth –"

Lee chuckled. "Flattery will get you everywhere. I'll go work my magic." He squeezed out of his chair and rose from the crowded table.

Kara rolled her eyes. "Arrogant much?"

Lee mouthed a teasing, "You like it," before vanishing into the crowd.

* * *

Richard barely suppressed a satisfied smile as Laura froze mid-stride after he pronounced that she was a proposed candidate for the vice-presidency. It wasn't true, although as Adar considered it, he realized that it was a stroke of genius. She was beautiful, likeable, a fantastic speaker, and unfalteringly incisive when the need arose. Laura was more formidable than she realized – if still a trifle naïve – but that, too, was part of her political appeal. Brenner would never approve because the scandal of their affair would be a far too risky liability. As discreet as they had been, if Laura appeared on the ticket with him, their opponents would pry doggedly into every little detail of her life. But truth wasn't important right now. Getting Laura to stay was Richard's sole purpose, and like everything he pursued that he wanted, the means were far less important than the end. He watched her turn slowly to face him.

"I don't want the vice-presidency," she said stiffly. She realized, as she said the words, how deeply she meant them.

Richard sighed. He had been moving progressively closer to her. "You can't just resign before an election year." He smiled that coaxing smile that had once had the power to make her heart flutter and her pulse race. "A few more months. I'll give you your space, I promise."

"We both know that this ended months ago, Richard."

Adar swept his eyes intimately over the slope of her neck and let them linger on her mouth before looking into her eyes. "We've ended it before and we always go back," he reminded her.

It wasn't the right thing to say and it was a mis-step that would cost him. It was true. From the first, he had finally gotten her into bed after a night of heart choking grief, a bottle and a half of wine, and a lot of tears. Laura was beginning to see the pattern of their relationship for what it was; Richard had been her drug of choice after the accident and their unhealthy bond had only been more fully fortified when she had confided to him alone the secret of her cancer. The sex had been good but it was just sex. Richard had made her feel something when she had felt numb from the inside out - but like any high it didn't last - and in the end it had done nothing to alleviate the looming vastness of the void. It only kept it at bay for a short time. She had to end the cycle once and for all. She didn't like giving up her position in office like this but it was clear that they couldn't work together.

"You'll have no trouble finding a replacement for me," Laura said matter-of-factly. Richard grasped the dual meaning in her coolly modulated voice. He perceived the steady flicker of resignation on her face and he knew that he had lost her, irrevocably. He nodded, slowly, his mouth a flat line. For once, Richard didn't have a swift, easy comeback.

"Gods, but I will miss you," he told her finally. Whatever else he had said tonight – that much was true. "For old time's sake," he murmured, taking her by surprise as he cupped her face, leaned forward, and kissed her.

It was that fleeting kiss that Lee observed when he finally found Laura in the dimly lit observation room.

* * *

The band was playing a slow love song when Lee returned to the festivities with the smooth sound of the saxophone taking prominence during the bridge. Kara was singing along, her expression much brighter than when he had left her. Lee sat down.

"You were gone a long time," she accused.

"Lot of people here," explained Lee. "I uh….I couldn't find her," he lied.

"Oh, that's okay," twittered Kara breezily. "Somebody else did." Lee followed Kara's happy gaze to the dance floor. He spotted Laura's unmistakable cascade of red hair. She was dancing.

With his father.

"I'm sorry you missed it," continued Kara. "He asked her. She said yes. They look good together, don't you think?"

Lee nodded mutely and picked up his empty wine glass to take a sip, putting it down with a loud thud when he realized that he had already finished the glass.

"She likes him, you know," continued Kara," as she leaned over to chatter in his ear so that he could hear her above the music.

"How do you know?" Lee asked soberly.

Kara whacked her fiancé on the arm and let out a brash laugh. "Oh, Lee….come on! You've seen them together. There's a spark. We could help it catch fire."

Lee continued to watch Laura and his father doubtfully. There was more space between them than any other couple on the dance floor. The bubble of an image floated across Lee's mind that consisted of the President with his hands cupping Laura's face and his mouth….

"And we finally have the table to ourselves," continued Kara. "Adar and his stuffy entourage left."

Laura's personal life wasn't any of his business, Lee reflected. As soon as he had trespassed on what was obviously a very intimate moment, Lee high tailed it out of there; he was pretty certain that the couple hadn't seen him. He'd purposefully taken the scenic route getting back. Kara obviously didn't know about her mother and the President and he didn't have the heart to tell her. She'd never liked Adar.

"I don't think we should meddle, Kara," said Lee. "If they like one another, they'll figure it out on their own."

Kara made a raspberry sound with her lips. "You are way too serious."

Lee looked once again from Kara to his father and Laura dancing their overly polite dance and flagged down a waiter.

He needed another drink.


	7. Chapter 7

As she made her slow return to the party, Laura was determined not to allow her discussion with Richard to permeate the remainder of her evening. She had spent far too long already allowing him to overshadow her decisions and to influence her choices. It was time to steer another course, time to start living again and to cease merely going through the motions. Sometimes it's easier to simply "get by" than to face the beast head on. She didn't want to be content with survival; she wanted to live. Although she didn't know exactly what that meant or what direction she was headed, she was certain about one thing – anything was better than the persistent numbness that she had settled for.

Maybe she didn't love Richard. Maybe she never had. But love him or not, the man knew how to nudge her where she was vulnerable, right up to the bitter end. He always made it so damned hard to leave. It was difficult to look back on the scattered debris of their relationship and admit that it had been built on a lot of wishful thinking. It would be easier to do what she'd been doing for the past few years, nibble absently on the lotus flower, and simply believe in the kiss. The reality was a lot harsher.

But at least it was the truth. She could start with that.

When she had finally returned to her table, Laura had found the seats over half empty. A waiter collected empty dessert plates and crumpled napkins while couples meandered to the dance floor for one final dance before the band finished their last set.

"Is that ankle of yours healed enough for a dance?" Laura turned to face the sound of the voice behind her, although she knew immediately to whom it belonged without having to look. His eyes were bluer than she remembered, such a deep azure, the cobalt blue of a winter ocean, brisk against a pebbled shore - only infinitely warmer.

She met his eyes. "Are you asking?"

He wasn't sure which mesmerized him more – the lyrical sway of her voice or the way he simply enjoyed watching her lips move. He didn't want to even begin to analyze why he was so fascinated with her mouth. "Do you always answer a question with a question?" he rumbled gruffly.

She tilted her head to the side, considering. A speculative half-smile flitted unbidden across her features. It was like watching a stream of sunlight peeking out from behind a cloud. "Don't all politicians, Bill?"

Bill grinned. "Only the ones who want to stay in office." He offered her his arm. Laura accepted the gesture by tucking her own arm into the crook of his in one graceful motion.

They reached the dance floor and assumed the traditional posture for a slow dance. Bill rested his right hand against the small of her back while his other hand clasped hers, drawing her closer. Laura's hand slid into place against his shoulder. Their stance was polite, modest even – admiral and Secretary of Education, father of the groom and mother of the bride-to-be. There was no reason then, nothing in their well-mannered posture to account for the heady current that swept over them both, stopping all conversation and making them suddenly awkward. They counterbalanced for it with stiffness and a concerted mutual effort not to draw too close. An uncomfortable silence settled over them that was all the more pronounced after the light banter that preceded it.

Bill cleared his throat.

"My ankle _is_ better," Laura affirmed quickly, simply to fill the silence.

"Good to hear, Madame…." Bill paused, took a breath…."Laura."

They avoided one another's eyes and tried not to think about why. Laura promised herself that the tiny shiver that sped through the nerve endings of her spine was merely a repercussion of frayed nerves after her heated exchange with Richard. Her emotions were high – that was it. She had a letter of resignation to write and a whole lot of explanations to give on Monday. Bill convinced himself that the quickening of his pulse was due to the reality of retirement finally hitting him square in the chest. It wasn't because of two luminous eyes, impossibly green, and inexplicably familiar – that he wanted to immerse himself in. And Laura refused to entertain the reckless notion that what she really wanted was for the man who held her so lightly to pull her closer. It made no sense. They barely knew one another. They were mature, seasoned. These whirlwind feelings had no basis. It was far better – far wiser to push them down, ignore them, suppress them.

The song had ended. Other couples were beginning to separate, chatting easily as they moved back to their tables to retrieve pocketbooks and other odds and ends or to say final goodbyes. Laura and Bill missed a beat somehow, lagging behind the rest.

"I'm glad you could come," said Bill as they separated.

"I'm – yes – thank you. Congratulations again." They avoided another handshake and simply nodded at one another. When they returned to the table, Kara was smiling like the cat who had swallowed the canary while Lee looked like he wanted the floor to open up and engulf him; he wouldn't meet Laura's eyes. If Kara didn't look so happy, Laura would have sworn that they had argued. She frowned.

Laura was so distracted and off-centered after her haphazard dance with Bill that she merely accepted Kara's exuberant hug with a maternal smile and a soft goodnight, refusing the heartfelt invitation to join Kara and Lee at one of Galactica's lounges. All she wanted was to crawl into bed and get off this gods-damned ship first thing in the morning, pen her resignation letter, and get her life back on track, preferably with her sanity still intact.

It was only a few moments later that Laura remembered that she had nowhere to sleep tonight. She had completely forgotten to touch base with Kara – who had probably already arranged to share a room with Lee. It wasn't a big deal. _Galactica_ was a large ship. No doubt she could find some quiet little unobtrusive corner to catch a catnap. She was scheduled to leave at 7 AM. Laura glanced at her watch. Only hours away. She gave her tired eyes a cursory rub; sleep was overrated anyway.

* * *

Bill was glad to see the festivities wind down. There were too many people wandering around disturbing his late night jaunt around the ship. He felt particularly restless tonight. It was surreal to him that in another forty-eight hours, he would never roam these gleaming corridors again. There was nothing quite like the hum and pulse of a battleship. He'd miss the old girl and he wondered what shape his life would take now that the role that had always defined him was dissolving. He wasn't sure he knew how to be anything else. It was time to go but like most goodbyes, it was a bittersweet parting.

It was that desire for solitude that drew him to the deserted alcove across the foredeck. But as soon as he saw her, as soon as he felt something in his chest simultaneously tighten and soften when his eyes rested on that tumbling sweep of red hair – Bill wondered why on a ship over half a mile long, why in the name of the blessed gods would he have to run into her? She was curled up, eyes closed, cheek resting against her hand, glasses in her lap. She had a pianist's hands – long, elegant tapered fingers. Graceful. Lee had heard her play once, a few years ago when he and Kara had started dating. Bill wondered what she was like at the piano.

 _She's a little too expensive for you, Bill, don't you think? Practically Caprican nobility. What would she want with a working-class hack from Tauron?_ Carolanne in his head. Perfect. That was exactly what Bill needed right now.

He told himself to walk away. A myriad of good, solid reasons even accompanied the advice but Bill's mutinous vocal cords had a mind of their own.

"Madame Secretary." His deep, rich baritone echoed in the small alcove.

Her eyes flew open as she took him in with that first furtive glance. "Frak," she murmured.

Bill almost smiled. It was such an honest reaction – unpolished, completely unguarded, and very human. It was pretty much the same thing that he'd wanted to say the moment he saw her dozing on his ship.

"I was sleeping," she informed him crisply by way of explanation.

"I noticed. The ship might not be state of the art but we do have sleeping quarters." Bill realized that he probably sounded like an arrogant son-of-a-bitch. He really hadn't meant to. There was just something about Laura Roslin that made him want to press her buttons.

Laura sat up abruptly, grabbing her glasses and putting them on hurriedly. She reached for her purse, one of those fancy little black things with a designer label etched in gold lettering on the bottom. Bill wondered how she fit anything of any significance in it. She stood up and slipped her feet back into her shoes.

"Thanks for the tip, Admiral," she huffed. Her shoes made a staccato tap against the floor as she retreated.

"Laura…." She didn't stop so Bill continued. "You're headed toward the elevator that will take you down to the brig." She stopped then and turned.

"I am?" She seemed to thaw a little.

Bill smiled. It was a kind smile; he wasn't mocking her. He nodded. "You are. Come on. Where did they put you? I'll take you to your room."

It was the wrong thing to say, although Bill didn't know why. But he could see it. Anger flashed in those expressive green eyes. She was Lee's future mother-in-law. He was being a gentleman, offering to escort her where she needed to go. How the hell was that the wrong thing? He wanted to throw his hands up in frustration. What the frak did this woman want anyway?

"There was a mix-up," Laura said rapidly. "An oversight. I don't have a room. But I'm fine. I don't need one. I'm leaving early and I'm not tired anyway. I just needed a little power nap."

It didn't make sense that Laura wouldn't have a room – not with her political clout and the fact that she was traveling with Adar's little retinue but Bill decided not to press her. "Come on," he coaxed. "Do you know where your things are?"

 _Probably with the President's Chief of Staff or already in Adar's room_. But Laura didn't tell Bill that. "No. Really, Bill, I'm fine. I can take care of myself."

"Kind of the way you took care of yourself at Altura?" He could still see the headlights of that car as it careened sickeningly toward her and it still made him angry as hell every time he thought about it.

Laura stormed past Bill in the opposite direction of the elevator. She'd follow the signs to a lounge and wait out the rest of the evening. As long as her feet carried her as far away from Bill Adama as possible, she would be a happy woman. The morning would come soon enough and she would take a shuttle off this thing and go back to Caprica where she belonged.

And with any luck, she could avoid the admiral and the unwelcome torrent of things that he made her feel until the wedding – or longer. She'd prefer indefinitely. But right now, she'd settle for even a few hours of clarity to get her head on straight.


	8. Chapter 8

Bill had only been on Caprica for a week but he hadn't gotten even remotely used to the erratic sounds of the city – it was nothing like the steady hum of _Galactica's_ engines. Lee had helped him find an apartment in the fashionable side of the city, not far from his apartment, and only a few blocks from the capital square. It was a prime location. But Bill wished that he'd taken something on the city outskirts instead. He couldn't even get a decent cup of coffee; ten cubits for one measly cup and it was virtually impossible to pronounce half the fancy names – and everything had to have a flavor. Whatever happened to just plain coffee? Advertisements winked at him from every corner, cinematic billboards tailored to sell you your own heart's desire – at a discount no less.

When his buzzer sounded, Bill put down the tasteless dark roast that he'd barely touched and pressed a series of buttons until the little monitoring device chimed politely three times, indicating that his visitor, whom he hadn't bothered to screen, had been buzzed in. Bill opened the door ajar and went back to his half eaten muffin.

"I would have brought you a housewarming present," said Saul Tigh as he slammed the door with a loud thud, "but I got sidetracked when I bought the beer." He carried the battered looking case of beer over to the fridge, pausing to peek at Bill's open laptop on the high top counter.

Bill shrugged. "Beer's better. Although I need a coffee pot."

Saul squared his shoulders and squinted disapprovingly at his friend. "Why are you looking up Laura frakin' Roslin?"

 _Shit._ Bill had forgotten about his little intranet search.

"Her daughter is marrying my son," Bill said vaguely.

Saul expelled a puff of air. Looking closely at the screen, he browsed rapidly through a series of articles and photos. Most of the pictures showed Laura in perfectly tailored Tassani suits standing poised and elegant at press conferences while cameras flashed amidst a glint of microphones. Adar was in most of them. There was a fuzzy photo of a younger Laura wearing a stunning emerald-green silk dress while her fingers fluttered over a grand piano like the wings of a hummingbird.

"Great gods of Kobol but those legs," muttered Saul.

Bill grunted. "I didn't notice."

"You're a liar. Still giving you the cold shoulder, is she?"

"I'm not Madame Secretary's favorite person," declared Bill with an ironic laugh.

"So you spilled a little wine on her dress; is she that pretentious that she's still harping on a little accident?"

"I don't think it's just the wine." Bill paused and took a half-hearted sip of the now-tepid coffee. "We – don't mix," he intoned flatly.

Saul flopped down onto the sofa, making the cushions bounce. He pushed aside a designer pillow that was undoubtedly Lee's influence and looked at Bill.

"Look, Bill, I'm going to speak frankly."

Bill braced himself. "As opposed to when you don't?"

"You and Carolanne have been divorced for what? Five years now? Six? Lose the frakin wedding band already and give yourself permission to be happy. You're fifty years old. You're not dead. You've spent a hell of a long time – "

There was an impatient knock on the door followed by an irate female voice.

"Couldn't you have at least left the door open for me, Saul? I practically had to give the doorman a hand job to get up here. Hello, Bill."

Bill rose from the sofa and opened the door for Ellen Tigh who immediately enveloped him in a perfumed hug. She followed the gesture up with a loud kiss on the cheek. " _Bill's_ a gentleman," Ellen told her husband accusingly.

Saul threw up his hands. "Well, if you didn't have to fix your damned hair and reapply your makeup, we could have walked up together. You took forever." There was the briefest of pauses and then Saul blurted out, "Bill has a thing for Laura Roslin." He rose and turned the laptop so that the screen faced Ellen.

"The politician?" Ellen leaned down and peered at the pictures. "Oh, yes. The redhead. Terrible about what happened to her family."

"What happened to her family?" asked Bill.

"Wiped out by a drunk driver. Oh – about four or five years ago. Father, siblings….mother, too, possibly. I can't remember all the details. Tragic. She frequently speaks at colleges and universities for SADD. Look." Ellen bent over the computer and hurriedly typed something. A few clicks later she brought up an article that showed a picture of Laura lecturing in front of a roomful of students in an amphitheater. Another photo showed a close up profile of her face. Her eyes, which so often lately had glared at Bill in anger, were wistful here. Ellen skimmed the article. "It was a college student driving an SUV. Her father, Edward Roslin, and her two younger sisters were killed on impact."

An ache settled in the center of Bill's chest. "Was Laura in the car?"

"I don't think so. This is what comes from not having networked computers on _Galactica_ ," Ellen admonished. "You boys don't keep up on any news unless it involves a Cylon or a missile."

"Lee should have told me," murmured Bill, eyes fixated on the photograph of Laura.

"Lee….," Ellen gasped. This is – oh my goodness – this is Kara's mother, isn't it? _Lee's fiancé's mother._ "

"Yeah, that would be the one."

"You would've met her if you'd come to the decommissioning," said Saul.

"You know I wanted to….I missed the shuttle."

"Probably because it takes you a millennium to do your frakin hair."

"I told you, Saul, I got stuck behind the president and his entourage."

"I don't have a _thing_ for Laura Roslin," Bill interrupted abruptly. He headed toward the refrigerator. "Who wants a beer?"

* * *

Laura found that writing her letter of resignation was much more difficult in practice than in theory. Crumpling up the fourth draft, she finally stood up from her desk in her apartment office and looked out the window, leaning lightly against the frame. Rain was coming. She could smell it in the dampening air. The sky, so blue earlier, had faded to the white puffy cover of clouds and was now darkening to a slate gray.

_A couple of days after the funerals were over, Richard had whisked her away to a suite on the chic upper end of town._

_The wine thrummed heavily through her system, as she reclined on the plush sofa, eyes half closed while Richard leaned over her. How many glasses had she consumed? She couldn't remember. Her body felt loose. Muscles relaxed. Her spine pressed lazily into the cushions. One shoe was off, already half hidden under the sofa. The other dangled precariously off her right toes. She felt warm, her body flushing with heat, and reached down to unbutton the first couple of buttons of her blouse. She was surprised to find them already undone, the cream silk fabric of her bra exposed. She giggled. Richard's insistent hands were on her thighs, brushing against the hem of her skirt, asking an age old question. She arched toward him and drew him closer simply because he was something steady and solid to hold onto in a room that was full of ghosts. She guided his mouth to the hollow of her throat so that he wouldn't feel the moisture on her cheeks.  
_

_And so it began. It would always be muted in her mind, that first wine-soaked time with him, after all those months of him coaxing, her uncertain. She pursued him aggressively after that, surprising them both, in those first few months after the accident, eager for a few moments of oblivion amidst the frantic schedule that she insisted on keeping._

_She never pressed him for more, never begged him to spend more time with her. Their quick trysts were enough. She was a docile and aloof mistress. Seeing him smiling broadly beside his wife with his arm around her waist while the cameras flashed never bothered her, and she didn't want to stop to consider the reasoning for her lack of jealousy. She felt guilty sometimes about the cheating itself; she had never thought that she would be the kind of woman who would sleep with a married man._

_He was the only one she had told about the cancer. Besides Kara, who else did she have left to tell? He had made sure that she saw the best oncologist. Later he would skip meetings and debriefings, driving Brenner absolutely insane in the way he "catered" to her – flinging aside his schedule when he could while he campaigned for the presidency. He wasn't able to get away nearly enough; he knew it and he was full of apologies and regrets, hushed late night phone calls, and daily bouquets of flowers. The scent of the flowers made her nauseous after the chemo - besides making her think of funerals. She didn't tell him when she found the first clump of hair on her pillowcase or when the tumor refused to shrink._

_Her intimacies with Richard only extended so far._

_In the end, after they got the cancer under control, when she went into remission, he took her to a private beach to celebrate. They reminisced about those early mayoral campaign days, stuffing envelopes and canvassing until their feet ached – those days when they were friends, long before they had become lovers. Richard was happy to see her laughing again; he didn't see the emptiness behind her smiles or understand that no matter how many times he made her climax, she never felt the release or solace that she sought._

_He probably wouldn't have noticed anyway._

Laura was clenching the tattered letter draft in her hand so tightly that her knuckles were white. She tossed it toward the wastepaper basket and missed, then bent down to retrieve it and placed it in the basket. She couldn't stop thinking about the initiatives that she was working on for educational reform that someone else would pick up when she resigned. Billy had called her, so excited that morning, to tell her that an unexpected portion of their funding had been met. She wasn't a quitter. She didn't like the idea of leaving her work unfinished.

Damn Richard Adar for making her feel like a pawn.

Damn herself for allowing him to.

She wished that her mother were alive. She would tell her – everything. She'd tell her about the confusing affair that she couldn't seem to end, how Richard was like a bad habit that she just couldn't break. She'd tell her about the fact that she couldn't touch a piano anymore, once a source of so much joy, without feeling as if her insides were being crushed. She'd tell her about her mystifying interactions with Bill, maybe even laugh about it – the way they couldn't be within two feet of one another without engaging in a heated argument. Poor Bill – he'd borne the brunt of anger that she should have directed elsewhere. She considered apologizing – a quick phone call, maybe an invitation for coffee. Their children were getting married, after all. She looked over at her phone, considering – when it rang.

She reached for the small, flat device and saw the caller ID. _Kara._

"Hi, honey," she said with forced cheerfulness. "No, no….you didn't interrupt anything important…."


	9. Chapter 9

Laura never made the phone call to Bill, although she thought about it more than a few times as the cool-tipped winds of spring warmed into the balmier breezes of summer. She threw herself back into her work with renewed vigor. The work kept other thoughts at bay, like what she would do with her life when she completed her term. She felt that she had lost a little of her footing with Richard when she didn't follow through with her immediate resignation, although her failure to carry out her threat had nothing to do with her ex-lover but everything to do with her commitment to her duties. The months would go by quickly, she reassured herself. Like so many things regarding her and Richard, she wished that she had handled things differently.

A couple of weeks after the decommissioning ceremony, Laura found a small note on the inside cover of the book that she was reading, which she had left on her desk during an earlier meeting. The small yellow sticky, so new and pristine, requested her presence in a few short words. _Join me in my office at your convenience._ R. She ignored the summons, making it a point to avoid his questing eyes when he sought her out after meetings. She knew that eventually, he'd make it impossible for her to completely elude him – but that wouldn't stop her from prolonging the inevitable.

He came to see her late on a Friday afternoon as she was leaning over her desk to roll up an outdated flow chart. The air conditioner had broken earlier and her blouse stuck to her skin while little beads of moisture framed her forehead. The sweltering heat in the building had caused many of her colleagues to depart early. She was one of the few to remain. Billy had insisted on staying on to help her, even though she had encouraged him to duck out early. Laura smelled Richard's familiar cologne, the sandalwood scent more pronounced in the humidity, even before she saw him approach out of the corner of her eye. She didn't acknowledge his presence as she continued to struggle with the bulky schematic.

"Let me help you with that," he offered.

"I've got it, Mr. President." She rolled the awkward paper into a haphazard cylinder and slipped a rubber band around it with a quick snap. "Billy didn't let me know that you were here."

He looked less presidential without his jacket and he had removed his tie. He was usually so flawlessly put together, never a thread out of place. This more casual Richard made the visit seem more intimate. It made her think of other times - rushing to straighten mussed clothing and smooth tousled hair after a quick liaison in his private office. These were not memories that Laura wanted to recall. "I sent your assistant home - so that we could talk," he informed her. Laura looked past Richard, angling her neck to look for Billy. His desk was empty.

"I really appreciate that," she said. "In addition to making personal sleeping arrangements for me, you are also supervising my staff without my consent."

"Laura – I'm sorr- "

"Don't you dare apologize," she flared. She picked up a stray pencil from her desk, threw it in the drawer, and slammed it. "What did you think would happen? That I'd just slip into your quarters on _Galactica_ and we'd frak on the desk like old times? I have never felt more like an object than I did that night and I am still not over it. And I will _never_ get over it. I'll finish my term because I made a promise and I won't allow our travesty of an affair to compromise the things that I've been trying to accomplish. But if you ever come into my office again unannounced or give unsolicited direction to my staff, I just might lose the discretion that you've prized so highly for all of these years. I'm sure that you wouldn't want a scene with an election year on the horizon, would you?"

Richard was quiet for a moment. "It was a stupid, stupid stunt." He felt a fragment of guilt rising up from the depths of his conscience. The guilt was accompanied by another feeling - a stark realization - that from the first, he'd gotten her the only way he could, lidded with wine and overwhelmed by grief. And even with all of his machinations to keep her, he'd never really had Laura in the first place.

His voice was sad. "I didn't want us to end like this."

"If you hadn't decided to treat me like a piece of property, maybe we wouldn't have. Oh, we would have ended. I think we both know that, but maybe not like this."

"For what it's worth, I'm glad that you're going to stay, even if it's only for a little while, not for myself, but for the administration. You do great work, Laura."

She wanted her intentions to be clear. "I'm only staying until the end of my term."

"I understand." Richard nodded, slowly. "I'll see myself out." He turned and headed toward the door, pausing to look at her once more before he left. He wondered if she would be looking back at him.

She wasn't.

* * *

Laura felt a sense of relief as she drove home through the heavy late Friday afternoon traffic. It was over. She and Richard had ended before but never like this. This felt different. It felt final. This was a raw parting, an honest look at what they had been. It wasn't one of the polite farewells that they'd had in the past. She reached into her purse and dug out a pair of sunglasses to shield her eyes from the fading glare, even though she knew that the wetness that she blinked away had nothing to do with the sun. It didn't have to do with Richard either. Her chest felt heavy and she took a slow, unsteady breath. For the first time, in a very long time, Laura simply allowed herself to feel it and to remember.

_She had arrived forty minutes early to warm up. Cheryl had put her hair up into an impeccable French twist, leaving a few soft auburn tendrils to brush against her neck. Her emerald green dress, with its swirls of shimmering silk, was Sandra's. It still bore the soft scent of her sister's perfume, orange blossoms and honeysuckle - so different from the lighter, more airy scents that Laura preferred. But the fragrance was pleasantly familiar, easing the flutter of nerves that she felt before any performance.  
_

_She knew that the piano had just been tuned; it was a performer's first worry. Pushing the sleek ebony bench aside, she sat down and played a few two-octave scales. Yes, the tuning was fine. She smiled and started right in with the Valieri with its rippling cascade of runs against the mellow triplets on the left hand. After, she moved into the Bergot, with the simple plangent sweetness of the main melody, like a promise never fulfilled. She loved the yearning in the unresolved chords and the rocking motion of the bass. It was her father's favorite.  
_

_After the warm up, Laura searched the hall for her family. Kara, who had just turned eighteen and who had ridden with her mother, rushed over to pin the front of Laura's dress, which was showing a little too much cleavage as she leaned over the piano. Laura rarely did recitals anymore with her hectic schedule on the Board of Education and the added hours she volunteered to help with the mayoral campaign. But once in a while she would play in a small, intimate recital - just to keep everything fresh and because she did love performing. She had always preferred teaching but piano was a performance art, and music was meant to be shared._

_She would search the small hall for her father and her sisters several times more throughout the course of the recital but she would never find them. There were no tears when the policemen told her about the collision._ __Laura merely blinked when she heard the news, disbelieving and shaking, as she looked from one pale officer to the other._ They couldn't quite meet her eyes as they explained about the accident and offered their condolences. There was the added irony that it had happened only a few miles away. Another couple of minutes of driving and they might have missed the swerving black SUV that had slammed into them head on, might have arrived safely to spend an ordinary evening listening to music and eating cakes and pastries during the intermission. Laura would consider so many little details later. She would wonder, always, what tiny choices might have been made that would have changed the outcome. A fraction here; a second there.  
_

_When the tears finally did come, she found that they wouldn't stop, even after they had left her eyes and settled instead into that deep, silent aching place that had once been her heart._

Laura knew which bag she would pack even before she entered her apartment. She darted around the rooms in a rush, throwing things into the large duffle without care. If she thought too much about it, she knew that she wouldn't go and she needed to do this. She packed something to wear to bed and a few changes of comfortable clothes, her makeup case, and hairbrush. She grabbed her cream colored sweater and an extra pair of socks. The lakeside cabin could get cool at night. She pulled a few more toiletries from the bathroom, toothbrush and toothpaste, moisturizer and soaps. Whatever she forgot, she could always pick up in town. She glanced at her watch. If the traffic had died down, she could make it in a little under two hours. The last thing she picked up was the novel that she had been reading. She threw the hardcover mystery into her bag and rooted around hastily in her purse to make sure that she had her cell phone.

She cradled the phone against her ear as she walked out to the car, waving away the doorman as he offered to help her with her bag. Her fingers pushed the speed dial for Kara.

Kara's voice sounded distant. "I'm on the frakin' phone...shut up."

"Is this a bad time?" asked Laura.

"No, Mom, it's fine." Her voice sounded far away again. "I'll be back in five."

"You're on the base?" Laura asked.

"Yeah. Navigational training this weekend. Fun, fun. You sound out of breath."

"I'm just running to the car. I wanted to let you know that I'm going to the cabin for the weekend. Reception can be hit or miss up there and I didn't want you to worry about me if you couldn't reach me."

"Alone? Mom - " Laura hadn't been back to her family's summer cabin since a little while after the accident when she'd had to go through some things for the estate. She still paid for the security alarm and the groundskeeping and had the place cleaned every season. A neighbor kept an eye on things for her, an old friend of the Roslins. But Laura hadn't been able to bring herself to go back. She talked about it from time to time, even making half-hearted plans once in a while to take a trip up with Kara, but somehow she would never make it. And she couldn't bring herself to sell it.

"It's okay, sweetie, really. It's long overdue." Her voice was steady, certain.

"I would have gone with you."

"Oh, I know that. I know. I love you so much. Good luck with your navigation thing. Be careful."

"What fun is there in that? I love you, too, Mom. Look - at least text me when you get in, okay?"

"Of course. Mwuah."

Kara hung up the phone, tracing her fingers against the cool metal as she brought the phone toward her pocket. She hesitated. There was no way she'd be able to leave the base. It would be impossible for her to get to the cabin this weekend.

But there was someone who could.


	10. Chapter 10

Bill scooted on the roller out from under the Occulus, a sleek small ship built for comfort and travel. It wasn't anywhere near as enjoyable as working on a Viper or a Raptor, but he was around ships again and that felt damned good. His arms ached and his back was sore from working with the heavy tools while having to remain in that fixed position. His hands were filthy and his overheated body was covered in sweat. He didn't mind. His clothes were streaked with grease and he even had a slight headache, but he'd always found work like this to be rewarding.

"Give her some juice," he yelled.

Saul hopped into the cockpit and pressed a series of buttons and pulled newly calibrated levers. The engine came to life with a silky hum. The two men grinned at one another and cheered.

"I told you it was the carbonite reflux," said Saul.

"Yeah, well, you have to be right _once_ in a while."

"Heh."

"But I guess I do owe you a drink."

"Or two."

Bill stood up slowly with a low growl, muscles sore. A creak in his knee reminded him that he wasn't twenty anymore but now that he had more time he'd just have to get out for a morning run. Caprica hadn't necessarily grown on him yet, but starting his part time job teaching civilians how to fly and repairing the small non-military ships at the flight academy had greatly boosted his morale. He was about to tell Saul that he'd meet him downstairs after a shower to head out for that drink when his phone jingled.

He hastily wiped his hands on a dirty rag, taking off enough of the muck to enable him to handle the phone without making too much mess as he dug it out of his pocket.

"Hi, Dad," said an exuberant feminine voice. It was the first time his future daughter-in-law had called him that and Bill beamed.

"Kara." The smile made its way into his voice.

Kara took a deep breath, feeling a little bit guilty about the lies that she was about to tell. But the Old Man would forgive her in the end. Lee would be upset with her for meddling and her mother would be furious with her. But she'd find a way to apologize later. If they didn't expect stuff like this from her by now then they didn't really know her. And she'd done worse. This was, all things considered, a minor infraction – a little bending of the truth to suit her purpose. She was not going to let her mother spend the weekend by herself facing all of those buried memories alone. And if Lee's father got to know her mother a little better in the process, then it made her intentions serve a twofold purpose. All the better. What harm was there in that?

"Lee and I are staying at our family cabin in Galatea for the weekend and we'd really love for you to join us. Sorry for the late notice, Dad. You know me – I kind of sprung it on Lee. It'll be fun. If you leave soon, you could even get here in time for supper. I promise – no algae." They'd lived off nothing but algae for five days on one of Kara's survival training missions that he'd led about a year ago and they'd never forgotten it.

"I don't know, Kara. My son would probably much prefer some alone time with his fiancée – not that I don't appreciate the invitation."

"Not a chance. He's got a huge test on Monday so he'll be neglecting me for a good part of the weekend," Kara improvised with a sly smile at her own cleverness, "so I'll need to be entertained. Please come."

Bill had a soft spot for Kara with her irrepressible spunk. If he'd been lucky enough to have been blessed with a daughter, he would have wanted a carbon copy of her. "All right, kiddo. I'll come."

"Yay!"

"Anything special I should bring?"

"No. Although the water is beautiful this time of year. So if you want to bring a swimsuit – "

"Okay."

"I'll hit you up with the address and a GPS loc. Bring a jacket, too, it gets cool up there at night. Oh, and if you need any additional directions, call me. Lee's phone is off. He's studying away. What a nerd," she laughed. She couldn't have Adama calling up his son and discovering her ruse.

"I'll see you soon, Kara."

"Later, Dad." Bill hit the small red button on his phone and slipped it back into his pocket.

"Can you take a rain check on that drink, Saul?"

"I can - but that will up the ante to three drinks. I hope, that at the very least, you're ditching me for a beautiful woman." He broke into a wide smirk. "Preferably a sexy _redheaded_ politician."

Bill expelled a puff of air, making a buzzing sound with his lips. "Hardly."

Saul glanced down at Bill's hand to tell him again that he needed to get rid of the wedding band already when he noticed that the familiar gold ring was absent.

"You devil," he smirked.

"What?" Bill realized what his friend was referring to. "Oh, that. Yeah, well….you were right. It's time. Not time for me to do anything with -" Bill reddened. That wasn't what he meant. "But time for me to – oh, hell."

Saul was giddy with triumph. "I was right twice and you're ditching me for Laura Roslin. Four drinks. And you really should throw in an appetizer."

"Two drinks. And I'm not meeting Laura frakin' Roslin," said Bill grouchily.

"Well, you're a fool then. You should be."

"Kara and Lee invited me to spend the weekend in the mountains with them. And no – before you even ask – Laura will _not_ _be there_."

"I wasn't going to ask that, Bill. But it's very interesting that you can't stop talking about Madame Secretary."

" _You_ brought her up, you idiot."

" _You_ have a _thing_ for Laura Roslin."

"Frak you, Saul," said Bill as he began marching toward the showers, fists clenched in aggravation. He flung one final comment at his grinning friend. "You are such a colossal pain in my ass."

Bill had to walk a good distance before Saul's laughter faded away out of earshot.

* * *

The sun was low in the horizon when Laura arrived at the cabin. The mountains were a jagged sea of indigo and gray against the fading orange glow of sunset. The lake, usually a limpid blue, was colored with glimmering flecks of gold. The scenery was even more majestic than she had remembered. There was so much space here, no buildings, standing stiff and tall to block the wide vistas, nothing to obscure the effusion of light and sound.

Laura pulled into the gravel drive and unloaded the car. She had stopped at the store on the way to pick up some staples like bread, peanut butter, jelly, milk, eggs and a small assortment of other odds and ends that she might need. She didn't plan on doing much cooking as she'd only be there for the weekend – and it was just herself.

As she brought the things into the cabin, she kept her mind focused on the tasks at hand: putting away the groceries, sweeping the floor, and doing a quick dusting. She didn't look around too carefully. She could already feel something tightly coiled starting to form in the center of her chest. She pushed it down. She couldn't allow herself that, not this soon – she wasn't ready. It was something that she would have to take in slowly, maybe a room at a time; otherwise, she felt that she would drown in it. The sharp secret of grief was that it wasn't those first few months that were the most difficult, when the flowers and the cards came, when she was busy with the paperwork that the lawyer sent or the half-heard condolences that couldn't possibly be hers to receive. In those early months, reality wore a veil and everything was filtered through that numbing shock of a dull pain. It was what came later. It was an empty chair and the indentation where her father sat so often with his black coffee and his newspaper. It was Sandra's violin or sometimes a piece of jewelry that Laura had borrowed but forgotten to return, discovered in her jewelry box on a day that would have otherwise been ordinary. And then came the false smiles, the expected pretense that everything was all right when it wasn't. It was the hopeless longing and the nonsensical guilt at the thought of being happy again that remained-long after the notes of sympathy stopped coming.

It was a cabin of happy summers, full of music and vibrancy and laughter – now unaccountably empty. It was being the last one left when the others were gone.

She was changing the bulb on the lamp clipped to the front of the piano when the knock came. The sound startled her in the quiet cabin, and as she approached the door she remembered that she had forgotten to call Kara. She expected one of the Cottles, Jack or Beverly from down the road, who had probably seen her car – coming by to check on her.

She hadn't expected Bill Adama to be standing on her doorstep with a large green duffle over his shoulder and a bouquet of daisies. He looked just about as confused as she felt as they both just stared wordlessly at one another.

"Bill?"

"Hello, Laura. I guess Kara forgot to tell you that I was coming." He laughed uncomfortably. "If it makes you feel any better, she didn't tell me that you'd be here either." Bill looked past Laura, hoping to be rescued by Kara or Lee. Laura didn't look happy to see him. He watched as the displeasure on her face quickly reassembled itself into a look of polite tolerance.

"I'm here alone, Bill. I didn't expect anyone."

"Ah. I guess Kara thought that you uh…." Bill was at a loss. "Frak, Laura. I'm sorry. I accepted an invitation to spend a weekend with Kara and Lee."

"Kara's at the base and Lee is at the university."

Bill handed her the bouquet of daisies. "They were for Kara but – well, under the circumstances –" Bill decided that being under fire from a bunch of angry Cylons would probably be more pleasant than this.

"Thank you, Bill."

"Look, Laura. I'll head back to the city. I'm sorry to have interrupted your evening." Bill apologized. He turned to go, wanting very much to get out of there as quickly as humanly possible.

"Come inside, Bill." Laura opened the door all the way and stepped back. "The roads get very dark here at night and if you're not familiar with them – " She paused. "You can't drive back to Caprica now."

 _Not exactly a warm welcome._ Laura sighed and tried again. "It's not your fault. Really, it's fine. Company would be nice. Come on in."

It was a lie and they both knew it. It wasn't fine and Laura radiated anti-Bill vibes in neon multi-colored waves. She was like a flashing roadside sign that could be seen a mile away that read _No Bills Allowed_. Bill was suddenly beginning to seriously doubt Lee's choice of a future spouse. What had Kara been thinking inviting him here?

There was nothing to do but step inside. Bill had never seen Laura dressed so casually but he noted that she was just as lovely in her red knit top and gray pants as she was in her perfectly pressed suits.

"I'll just put these in water," said Laura. "If you want to put your things down, it's the room on your left, if you don't mind a twin bed, that is." Her voice softened. "It's the room I used to share with my sisters."

"That's fine, Laura. Have you seen the size of my rack?" Bill realized that the question sounded terribly wrong and he quickly rambled on. "I'm sure I'll be very comfortable. This is a great place. Thanks. I'll just – be a minute."

With Bill absent, Laura plunked the daisies unceremoniously into a vase and put them on the kitchen table. Next, she pulled out her cell phone and read a new text message from Kara:

_There's a little surprise heading your way. Play nice._

Laura punched in a hasty reply. _Yes, the surprise is here._ She was prevented from elaborating any further because Bill was suddenly standing in her kitchen.

"Are you hungry, Bill? I don't have much here but I can make an omelet, pancakes, or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich," she offered. "I think that I can probably even rustle up a bottle of wine."

"That sounds great, Laura."

She looked expectantly at him. "What does, Bill? Which one do you want?"

Dancing together had been awkward but carrying on a conversation was so much worse. At the decommissioning ceremony they had had the added buffer of formality. This forced domesticity was a nightmare.

"Peanut butter and jelly."

"Good choice. I'm going to see about finding that wine."

Clearly, they were going to need it.


	11. Chapter 11

Laura found not one, but two bottles of wine up on the wine rack. She had to stand on her tiptoes to reach them, and when she brought them down, she discovered that they were covered in a layer of dust. Opening up one of the bags that she had brought from the store, she grabbed a roll of paper towel and promptly began cleaning. She rubbed vigorously at the first bottle, as if the dust offended her. As she finished, she gave an unconscious, agitated toss of her hair.

"Can I help you with anything, Laura?" Bill asked.

"With peanut butter and jelly? No, Bill. Just sit." The second bottle clanged as she placed it on the countertop.

Laura washed her hands and dried them hastily with the same kind of frenetic energy that she had attacked the wine bottles. She darted around the kitchen, pulling out plates and napkins and looking through drawers for a corkscrew. Her fingers felt something surprisingly soft in one of the drawers that otherwise contained various kitchen odds and ends. She pulled out a potholder that Cheryl had crocheted when she was very little, with its bright purple and orange colors, the stitching uneven. The edges were frayed from overuse, and images of family dinners that she would never have again flashed through Laura's mind. She made a small sound in the back of her throat and quietly slid the drawer closed.

"I'm sorry….I'm really sorry," she said suddenly without turning around. She stopped all movement. "I haven't really been back here, Bill, for a long time – except for a very occasional check-in with Kara but I wouldn't stay. Did Lee ever explain to you about the accident?"

"Yes," answered Bill, although that wasn't exactly how he had found out. But he didn't really want to explain why he'd been looking Laura Roslin up on the intranet – mostly because he didn't even know why himself.

"I found out about it after the night we all had dinner, after you tried to – "

"Recklessly detain the drunk driver?" she supplied. He watched her bring a hand to her eyes in one quick, dismissive motion. It was the motion of someone who hoped that he wouldn't notice.

"It was a very brave thing to do."

Laura turned around to face Bill, her face completely composed. "I don't remember you thinking so at the time."

"Well, my primary concern was about making sure you didn't get hurt."

"I just thought. Maybe just one action. One little thing, some tiny detail. And I could stop it." She opened another drawer and searched around again for a bottle opener but her eyes weren't really focused on any object in front of her. They were far away. Bill wasn't sure if she was talking about the driver from the restaurant or the one who had collided with her family. Probably both. "I'm not very good company," she added, as the focus of her gaze returned to him. Her eyes had lost a little bit of their vivid greenness tonight. There were flecks of gray. Like stone or granite in a bed of moss. There was something hard and flinty and foreign in her eyes tonight. Not really her - but a quality that she had to adapt, like an animal being forced to adjust to a new climate simply for the sake of survival.

"It's understandable that being here would be difficult for you - and you didn't expect to have a guest tonight." Bill was quiet for a moment. "Kara means well, you know."

"I know." Laura sighed heavily. Her voice drooped and faded like a dropped cello. "I've put Kara through a lot," she said cryptically. "Gods, I can't even find a frakin' bottle opener." She pushed the drawer closed.

"Do you have a serrated knife?"

"Drawer on your left."

Laura watched Bill grab a knife from the drawer, push the sharp point into the cork of the Pinot Noir, and slowly twist. The cork took a long time to give but finally there was a loud pop and the cork rolled across the kitchen counter. They reached for it at the same time. Laura got to it first, and when Bill's hand felt for the cork, he found instead that his hand covered hers. Their eyes met and neither moved as the air itself that surrounded them seemed to still, too. But just as quickly, the pause was set in motion again, and they both promptly looked elsewhere before breaking apart, conversation ceasing.

The silence continued as Laura busily began making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and Bill searched the cupboards for wine glasses. He found two and poured the wine.

"Are you sure this is all you want, Bill?"

Inexplicably, Bill's heart lurched at the question. He blinked.

"It's not exactly a gourmet meal," Laura continued. They sat down across from one another at the round table. It could seat five, and it seemed awfully big and awfully empty with just the two of them.

"This is fine. I love peanut butter and jelly." He smiled and wished that she would smile back. When she smiled, her face glowed like the very first light of morning. But now her features were dark.

Laura hummed. "So if you weren't here having a perfectly terrible Friday evening with me, what, I wonder, would you be doing?" Laura took a tiny sip of her wine.

"Drinks with an old friend."

"And instead you're here – babysitting."

"I wouldn't exactly call it that." He was thoughtful for a moment. "I'd call it being supportive."

"Yes, I guess that's nicer. Certainly more diplomatic."

"Laura," said Bill quietly, "You know – you don't have to go through this alone."

For a moment, Bill was certain that she was going to cry. But just as suddenly, the flicker of vulnerability vanished like a trick of the light, and she was clearing away his empty plate without acknowledging his comment. He picked up her untouched plate and wrapped the sandwich up for her in plastic while she poured her mostly full glass of wine down the sink.

"Listen, Bill, it's been a long day. I'm going to head to bed. I'm sorry to be such a poor hostess."

"You sure you don't want to sit up with me for a little while?" She was hurting. Bill could see it in every taut line of her face, in the way she looked around her surroundings without really absorbing anything, as if she merely observed rather than participated in her environment. He'd done it, too, embraced the detachment and put up a shield when the grief was too much. It's what people do to get through. He suspected that Laura had done more than her fair share of simply getting through.

She shook her head. "Not tonight. Is there anything I can get you before I go to bed?"

"No, thanks. You get some rest and if you need anything, I'm pretty close by."

"Thank you, Bill." He watched her disappear into her bedroom like a wraith.

It was difficult enough for Bill to get a good night's sleep in Caprica with the sounds of a city that he was unused to, without the soothing pulse of _Galactica's_ engines. But here in the country, the quiet was too much. It was too still. The room was unfamiliar. He imagined that he was sleeping in Laura's bed; the other two in the room were bunk beds and she was the oldest so, technically, she outranked her sisters for the best bed. Bill finally gave up trying to sleep, deciding to dig out the book that he had brought with him. He turned on the light and glanced again around the room. There were posters on the walls, animals and fantasy art that would have come from the girls' childhood. There were movie posters with handsome teenage heartthrobs in heroic poses and a couple of punk bands. Something tangible lingered there in the room of the three sisters who had shared secrets and laughter, stories of first loves, and dreams of a future that wouldn't completely come. A cork board was loaded with pictures that Laura had not taken down. Bill smiled at one in particular of the three girls, still small, all dressed in white ruffles, wearing wide brimmed hats and big smiles while they had what looked like a tea party.

It was only because the cabin was so quiet that Bill heard it. Otherwise, he was sure that he would never have noticed. The sound was so soft. It was the muffled but still unmistakable sound of a woman crying, starting and stopping at irregular intervals. Bill got out of bed and grabbed a t-shirt to put on with his shorts. He felt his way through the unfamiliar cabin; it wasn't far to go. In the darkness, he approached Laura's door and listened.

Nothing. Bill waited. And sure enough, he heard it again, this time just a small, choked intake of breath.

Bill decided right then and there that since he'd already done a multitude of stupid things where Laura was concerned, why not add one more? But even more than that, the idea of leaving her in there all alone and doing nothing for her, was simply inconceivable.

He gave a light tap on her door. "I hope you're decent because I'm coming in there," he warned, as he opened the door up and stepped inside her bedroom. The room was lit with nothing but a little moonlight but Bill could see Laura well enough as she sat up in bed with a pillow, which clearly explained the muffling, wrapped in her arms.

Bill didn't need any light to make out the stubborn outward push of her chin. "I'm fine, Bill. Go back to bed."

"If this is what fine looks like, Laura, I'd hate to see what you look like when you're miserable." And with that, Bill leaned over the bed and pulled Laura against him, pillow and all. She stiffened but she didn't push him away - so he merely yanked the pillow out from between their bodies and continued to hold her. He wondered how her body could feel so cool on such a warm night. The first sob came and Bill felt as if it may as well have been his own. He sank down on the bed beside her without letting her go.

He offered her what he could, which he knew from losing his son, would never be enough. The tension in her body uncoiled with the tears, and Laura buried her face against his neck. Bill made quiet, wordless sounds of consolation while he wondered how often she did this. How many nights had she sat up, hugging a pillow, and stifled her grief? Alone.

"I shouldn't be like this," she said brokenly. "It's been almost five years. I should be better."

"It doesn't have a time table." His chin brushed the top of her head.

"I feel so irrational. I –"

"There's nothing more incomprehensible than losing the people we love. How do you expect to react logically to something that has no intrinsic logic, hmmm?"

"Kara had already been accepted at the academy when it happened. She didn't want to go because she worried about me. I didn't want her to go. But I wouldn't tell her that. Of all careers….the military. You don't know how hard it was for me to sanction that. If I'd lost her, too, it would have been endgame for me. But I pulled it together. I insisted. And then I just kept busy. Very, very busy."

"You can only push it away for so long, Laura. It only gathers momentum. But you're facing it now, brave girl."

"I think the numbness is easier."

"Not in the end, it's not."

"And I don't feel very brave."

Bill put a hand under her chin and tipped her tear-stained face up to look at him.

"You're going to be okay, Laura Roslin," he promised.

"How do you know?"

He smiled. "I just do."

Laura returned the smile, a fragile thing, an uncertain wisp of a smile. But it was enough.

"Maybe you'll play something for me on the piano tomorrow," Bill suggested.

He felt her muscles tighten up. "I don't know. I don't know if I'm ready for that. We'll see."

Laura withdrew from him and found herself immediately missing the warmth of the close contact. It was good to be held like that. Uncomplicated. Without expectations.

"I should let you get some sleep," offered Bill. "Unless you want to talk some more. Whatever you need, Laura."

"I think I'll try - to see if I can sleep."

Bill nodded and slipped out of bed. He pulled the covers over her, smoothing them. Laura was surprised by how much the simplicity of the gesture eased her.

"Goodnight, Bill."

"Goodnight, Laura."

"Bill - "

He paused at the threshold.

"Thank you."


	12. Chapter 12

Bill was restless. He had been so sure that he'd packed the mystery that he'd been reading and yet he couldn't find the book anywhere. He rummaged through his duffle bag a second time, pulling out socks and shirts, deodorant and razors, scattering the items across the quilt-covered twin bed. He came up empty handed. He _had_ packed in a hurry; he'd probably left the book on his coffee table. Carolanne was always picking up his books, usually abandoned face down and open, or closed and bookmarked wherever he'd last been reading them. She'd shut them with an irritated snap and stuff them into his overcrowded bookshelf. It was a repeated argument, her nagging and his grumbling when he couldn't find one because she'd "relocated" it. _You were so good at avoidance and withdrawal, Bill. With_ Galactica _and those useless pieces of paper-filled cardboard, is it really any wonder that I strayed?_

Bill rose and padded into the living room to take a look at the bookshelf he'd spotted earlier. On the way, he noticed a book that lay closed on an end table with a bookmark peeking out of its top. So Laura was a bookmark-user, not a bend-a-corner-of-the-page offender. Bill smiled and enjoyed this small tidbit of trivial information. He wondered if she were like him, always leaving a trail of books in her wake like footprints. Bill picked up the shiny new hardback, feeling a little intrusive as he did so, and yet unable to resist. He glanced first at the title on the spine: _Blood Runs at Midnight_. A mystery. Much like its owner – how appropriate. Bill opened the book to skim through the reviews at the beginning, when a small yellow sticky note nestled on the inside cover caught his attention. The note was so short that it was impossible not to read it on a mere quick glance.

 _Join me in my office at your convenience._ R.

Bill closed the book and placed it on the end table where he'd found it. His pleasure at discovering something to read evaporated as quickly as water disappears into cracks of pavement on a too-hot day. Bill probably wouldn't have thought much about the message, an innocuous little invitation for a meeting, if he hadn't seen them together. If he hadn't seen the way the man hovered over her. The way he always seemed to have a hand resting against her back or the grazing of his fingers against her forearm when he leaned in, too close, to whisper something in her ear. It dawned on him then, that night on _Galactica_ , how the president had left the table and how Laura had also vanished soon after. She returned; he didn't. Were the rumors true then? Was it a lovers' quarrel that had her sleeping alone in a quiet little alcove on the vast ship while Adar paced and waited for her to return, bed empty - wanting?

 _Had_ she returned?

Bill told himself that it didn't matter. It was none of his business. He barely knew her. And yet unease crept under his skin and burrowed its way into that place of denial, into that expanding place even deeper in his heart that had already begun to care about her. He glanced at his hands, at the left one where his wedding band used to be. An indentation remained at the base of his finger where the ring had pressed against the skin, reminding him of his fatally flawed marriage and the haunting regrets that would remain, like melancholy ghosts, even long after the mark faded. Gods, but he wasn't ready for this.

Slipping back into bed, Bill lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. Laura needed a friend. They could be friends, couldn't they? Friends. It sounded so safe and polite. When he closed his eyes, he could still feel the weight of her head against his neck and the soft press of her body against his. Her proximity surrounded him still. A wisp of her scent, a fragrant intermingling of lavender and vanilla, lingered in his memory. He could still feel the way the coolness of her skin warmed as the heat of his own seeped into her. He wondered, in some remote corner of his mind, what it would be like in another context to hold Laura, for a reason entirely unrelated to heart-bending grief.

_It's not for you to know, Bill. Leave it there._

Sleep was fitful. Instead of listening for the hum of engines or being on the alert for an emergency call, Bill listened for Laura. He knew, with absolute certainty, that at the first sign of distress from her, he would be up and out of that bed. The feeling was as instinctual as the rhythm of his breathing. It was an absolute – as grounded in the fabric of reality as the stars scattered across the heavens above.

He slipped in and out of sleep throughout the night. Dreams came and went with each tick of the clock on the nightstand. Bill dreamed that he was digging a grave, hands sweaty and blistering from the effort, face gleaming with sweat. The sun had almost completely vanished; he'd have to hurry before he lost the light. His limited dream-awareness prevented him from knowing whose grave it was that he dug. But as he pried another shovel full of dirt free from the clumped earth, he realized that it didn't matter – his heart was so heavy it may as well have been his own. He dreamed of a voice, rich and lyrical, topaz-colored and ineffably lovely. But it faded into something thin, almost transparent, the mere hint of a voice – and when it finally dwindled away completely, Bill felt something essential in him fade, too. When morning finally came, the light blotted out the memory of those evasive dreams – as waking often does.

The smell of coffee greeted him as he pushed the covers aside and his feet made contact with the cool hardwood. He walked slowly toward the bathroom, the grip of half-sleep still clinging to his body and his brain. He emerged a few moments later and found Laura sitting on the floor of the living room going through stacks of sheet music. There was a pile of crumpled Kleenex in her lap. Her hair was damp, making the color a deeper shade of auburn. The white terrycloth bathrobe that she wore seemed too big for her small frame.

"I hope I didn't wake you, Bill."

"Not at all."

"I left a towel and a facecloth for you in the bathroom if you want to take a shower. There's a pot of coffee on the counter and some muffins in a bag. There's a little bakery down the road; I took a walk."

"Thanks." Bill watched her as she continued to separate pieces of music into different piles. He motioned his head toward the pages that surrounded her, like scattered leaves, like memories. "Why did you stop playing?"

Laura stopped. She removed her glasses, and her eyes, like two sharp push-pins, dug into Bill. "While I truly do appreciate your support last night, I think I'll pass on this little therapy session."

Bill sat down on the floor next to her so that they were at eye level and he regarded her calmly, unfazed. His voice was even. "I'm not leaving."

"What?" Her eyes narrowed in irritation.

"I'm not leaving, Laura. If you want to spend the rest of the weekend being defensive and caustic with me, that's fine. But I'm not going anywhere."

Bill watched as she processed that piece of information. She expelled a quick breath of air, eyes flaring, and opened her mouth to say something, but he interrupted her before she could get a word in edgewise.

"I miss my son," said Bill. "Every day. Some days are better than others – but not a day goes by when I don't think about Zak. I never wanted him to race. I gave him money toward his first car." His lips quirked into a tentative smile. "This hideous neon blue and red racer that he had his heart set on. I kept telling him no. But he wanted it so badly – racing was in his blood, he told me. Eventually, I gave in. He was so happy. Ran a few races, did well….and I remember thinking, maybe this will all be okay." Bill swallowed. "And then it wasn't. I know what you're going through and I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that it's ever easy but for frak's sake, let the people who care about you help you through it. _Now_ you can tell me to go to hell."

"I'm sorry about Zak, Bill. And for the record, this isn't all one sided – if you want to talk about it, I'm a good listener." She paused. "Especially since it prevents me from biting your head off – which I've done a lot lately."

"Thank you – for offering to listen; not for biting my head off."

Bill saw the frail hint of a simile in her eyes. Laura looked down at her hands. "I'm not angry with you." She sighed. "Not really. You just….for some reason….have a knack for – "

"Pissing you off?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed vehemently.

"The feeling is quite mutual."

Laura laughed, a bright bell-like sound that turned into a giggle. "At least we can agree on something."

Bill smiled and it felt like a reflex brought on by her laughter. "So really – why don't you play anymore?" He skimmed his hands over a piece of music spread out on the floor and almost accidentally brushed his fingertips against hers. For the jolt that the near contact sent through his body, he might as well have.

"You're persistent."

Bill didn't answer; he merely looked at her intently. Years in the military had taught him that sometimes the best way to get someone to talk was simply to say nothing at all. Apparently, Laura Roslin wasn't so susceptible to his interrogation tactics because she merely regarded him with an aloof silence. Bill decided to wait her out. A half a minute passed and turned into a full minute. Bill was about to try another strategy when she finally spoke.

"It's like a switch, you know," said Laura. Her voice was plangent, soft. "You turn the grief off but there are other things on the same circuit and you can't separate them. The music is so much a part of what we were. The house was always full of it. My father and I with the piano. My mother's singing. Cheryl with her flute and Sandra with the violin. After the accident, I did play….and sometimes it felt good. But other times, it was just such a reminder of the way things were but also how different they had become. It was too much." She shrugged. "So gradually I put my music away, literally and figuratively."

"Lee heard you play once. He couldn't stop talking about it."

Laura flexed her toes. "I remember. It was at a party Kara had for my birthday. We played a duet and then I played something by myself. It was a couple of years ago." She shifted to catch a patch of sunlight that was peeking through the windows so that she could feel it against her back.

"Do you miss it?"

"Every day."

"Kara's very good, you know," said Bill. Laura smiled; her features rearranged themselves into the look of a mother who was very proud of her daughter. The look suited her. "You taught her."

"Yes, since she was very little. When did you hear Kara play?"

"One of the lounges on _Galactica_ has a piano."

Laura brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them, resting her chin against her hands.

"Bill, I'd like you to stay – not because you have to. Not because you feel obligated to cater to the 'poor grieving woman' but because you want to." Laura took a quick breath. The invitation felt almost – intimate – and she felt instantly vulnerable. She fiddled with the cuff of her robe. "I mean - it's good. Us. Getting to know one another. Kara and Lee want us involved in the wedding plans, Gods help us."

"Heh….I didn't even plan my own wedding."

"You and your wife – "

"Eloped. We were very young." Laura's eyes wandered down to Bill's hands and she couldn't help but notice that he wasn't wearing his wedding ring today. Her eyes darted quickly back to his face.

She covered her surprise with a quick question. "Is that why you're a little apprehensive about Lee and Kara?"

"I wouldn't say I'm apprehensive, Laura. Just cautious." He shrugged. "But it isn't for me to decide. And just for the record, I love Kara. She's amazing."

"I feel the same way about Lee."

"Another thing we agree on."

Laura's eyes twinkled as she pushed back a few strands of red hair. "Probably best we don't get used to it."

Bill grinned. "Probably not."


	13. Chapter 13

Laura wasn't sure how she should entertain her guest. The isolated mountain town didn't exactly offer much in terms of activities or entertainment. It was all vistas melting into landscape, lush with greenery against a cerulean sky. It was open spaces and airy breezes. It was a lazy town, made for rest and relaxation, for sitting by the lake, for reading, for hours of good conversation, for dreaming.

It was early enough in the morning that the sun hadn't quite warmed the waters enough for swimming so Laura took Bill to the Gardens of Paphos, one of the most scenic areas of Galatea, famed for its quaint footbridges and latticed gazebos ornamented with flushing climbing roses and white moonflowers. The park was nestled between two hills and the winds that came through the small valley could be strong in the cooler months. In summer, they were light zephyrs. Lily ponds shimmered with bright lavender and pink flowers, reflecting sun and sky on their surface, a visual echo in miniature of the surrounding countryside.

"What's it like," Laura asked curiously as they walked at a leisurely pace along one of the winding paths, "being aboard a ship for all of those months? I don't think I could do it."

"You get used to it," answered Bill matter-of-factly. He stopped and took a slow breath, inhaling the sweet fragrance of honeysuckle. "But if this is what you're used to," he said making a generalized gesture around them, "then I could see how you'd find it difficult to be confined to a ship. This place is like paradise."

"They say Galatea is for lovers," said Laura.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she instantly wished that she could retract them. Her comment could so easily be misconstrued as a flirtation, and on top of that, here she was bringing him to what was undeniably a romantic spot. She'd invited him to stay for the weekend and she tried not to think about the fact that she'd allowed him to hold her in the intimate darkness of her bedroom just the night before. She had nestled quite willingly into the offered warmth of his embrace and she had accepted the comfort that he had given. It was all platonic, she reminded herself, when she felt a flash of inner panic. But even now, there was something in her still, lurking deep on the subversive cellular level of her body, unacknowledged by her intellect - that wanted him to touch her again.

"A lot of people honeymoon here," she clarified by way of explanation. "You know the story of Pygmalion and Galatea?"

"The guy who fell in love with his sculpture? Yeah. He asked Aphrodite, the goddess of Love, to grant him a woman who would be like the statue that he made…and she did. I guess that's supposed to be romantic. Unusual little fetish if you ask me," said Bill drily. "Although hey….I don't judge."

Laura stopped walking and looked at him. A mischievous breeze saw fit to play with a few strands of her hair so that they fell across her face, and Bill watched as she brushed them away. "Well," offered Laura thoughtfully, "from a philosophical point of view, I think it's supposed to say something about finding your ideal love. But I think that's the whole problem. Not a whole lot of challenge, is there, if you wind up with perfection? Or at least perfection from _your_ point of view. Not a whole lot of room for growth. Not to mention the whole sexist aspect of the story. He gets a woman that he 'molded' into what he wanted. What about her? He probably drools and snores and has a profusion of nose hairs."

"Maybe she finds nose hairs sexy. So do you object to a single nose hair or when you say _profusion_ are you only objecting to nose hairs in bulk quantity?"

Laura laughed. "Any and all. Nose hairs are _not_ sexy, Bill. And I think you're making fun of me." Her tone was light.

"Not really. I just wanted to get to hear you laugh again." It was Bill's turn to regret what he'd said. It felt too familiar to say; it assumed too much. It expressed more than he wanted to reveal, even to himself. Bill cleared his throat. "So did Pygmalion and Galatea live on to have hybrid-statue-human babies?"

Laura rolled her eyes. "They had a son that they named Paphos."

"Ah." They were both quiet for a few moments. Bill steered the topic back to her. "So what brought you from the classroom into politics, if you don't mind my asking?"

Laura shrugged. "It just kind of happened. I always had an interest in the community, not just academics. I think music is like that. It's so personal. Although, I'll admit – it was a bit of a leap. I was a principal when I met the President and agreed to help with his campaign for mayor. I never planned to stay. A part of me has never really liked politics but for some reason I kept on."

"You've worked a lot with Adar?"

Something in Laura's expression sharpened at the question; there was a subtle change in her posture. Her eyes were guarded. "Yes. For a long time. What brought you into the military?" she asked quickly, diverting the attention away from her relationship with the president.

The abrupt shift did not go unnoticed but Bill answered anyway. "Flight. Ships. When I was a kid I used to take things apart – all the time. To my mother's dismay, I took every doorknob apart in the house when I was three."

"Impressive."

Bill chuckled. "Not really. I couldn't put them back together."

Laura smiled. "So you can fix anything?"

"Most things." _Not the important things._ "I knew that I wanted to be a pilot from the time I was very small. And then with the war – well, I never really considered doing anything else. Peace can be an odd thing when you're not used to it; sometimes I think I'm still just waiting for the other shoe to drop. That must sound awfully cynical."

Laura tilted her head to the side, thinking. It was a habit of hers, Bill had noticed, this reflective tipping of her head in moments of careful consideration. "Maybe. Maybe not. Perspective, really. You're cynical if the Cylons never come back, vigilant if they do. Personally, I'd choose cynicism."

"Me, too," agreed Bill.

"Seriously, Bill." Laura stopped walking and her eyes met his, head on. Maybe that's what it was about her that made it almost impossible to look away. She was so present, so attentive, so focused. Political posturing or not – it was mesmerizing. "Committing to the military, serving in the war, all those years of service….thank you for everything you've done." Her voice was sincere, her expression genuine. "It's an impressive gift you've given."

"Thanks. Laura – that means a lot."

They walked a few more paces, both quiet.

Laura glanced down at her watch. "How about a swim? You want to head back?"

Bill nodded. "Yeah….yeah, I do."

* * *

When they arrived back at the cabin, Bill told Laura he'd meet her at the lake. He wanted to go for a quick run before the swim. Running on a treadmill - with recycled, manufactured oxygen pumping through your lungs - just wasn't the same as running through wide-open spaces with the warm sun beating against your face. He'd had far too little of the outdoors lately. Laura told him to enjoy himself and take his time. They agreed on a place to meet in about an hour.

Bill circled the outskirts of the lake. It was a good day for a run, not too hot, and breezy. Running outdoors worked muscles that you just couldn't engage on a machine – not in the same way. He started slow and gradually increased his pace. Sweat beaded his forehead and gathered on his back and arms and legs as he sped up. His heart raced. The raw energy that his body expended led to sore muscles and a chest that burst and burned. But it felt good. Bill felt vital, alive. He felt pride in the body that was working exactly as he wanted it to, maybe not as honed as when he was twenty-three, but it would suffice. The feeling was exhilarating. The place was beautiful, the day clear and serene. Bill neared the cabin sooner than he expected and finally began to slow down.

An apparition of sound floated on a breath of wind, interspersed with the gentle swish of the breeze in the treetops and mingled with the call of birds. It was masked by other natural sounds. At first, Bill thought that he was hearing wind chimes, so mellow and sweet, rippling through the air like incandescent bells. He soon realized his mistake. It wasn't wind chimes at all. There was nothing random about the notes that echoed around him, nothing arbitrary. What he was hearing couldn't possibly be the mere whim of the wind. Precision melted into passion with each resounding note. This was the chaos of the heart distilled into form.

This was music. This was Laura.

Bill reached the door of the cabin and entered quietly, not wanting her to cease playing, but also wanting to see her at the piano. He leaned against the door frame as still as stone. Her back was facing him but he could see the movement of her hands when she moved them up to the high notes. The piece ended too soon but she immediately went into another. This one was slow and warm, the purity of the treble clear and bittersweet against the ascending bass. His eyes were damp as the last note lingered and finally faded.

Laura was still. She sat at the piano, unmoving, with her hands in her lap.

"I don't want to startle you," Bill said with careful softness.

"How long have you been there?" Laura asked without turning around.

"Long enough to understand why Lee said that your playing was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever heard."

Laura continued to face the piano and Bill understood that she needed the shelter of distance around her just then. He wouldn't breach it.

"It's a folk tune," she explained. "The last piece. It's called _Hymn to Hope_. When I was a very little girl, my father taught me the most basic part of the melody. I learned a more complicated arrangement when I got older and then I started writing my own embellishments. My dad would do the same and we'd tinker with it together. My mother used to say that we never played it the same way twice, which is probably true."

"It's beautiful."

"Thanks. It's good to play again, Bill. I shouldn't have left it for so long." She shifted and turned, not quite all the way, but enough so that he could see her profile. Bill walked over to her and stood beside the piano, admiring it, keeping his focus off her.

"How old is the piano? The cabinet work is so intricate."

"Older than I am."

Bill ran his fingertips over the knotwork design. "This was hand done, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"Amazing work."

"It really is," she agreed.

The afternoon light highlighted her features as Laura moved her head and Bill saw that her face was streaked with tears. But he pretended not to notice. She needed him to ignore it; Bill understood that. Sometimes sympathy was too much. The tips of his fingers brushed against her hand as he touched the wood. He let them linger there for a moment and then he cupped her hand within his, rubbing his thumb along her wrist. She looked at him, really looked at him in that moment, and Bill felt as if he were a lake made of glass and that she was seeing to the very depths of him. It was too much, this time, for him. He released her hand and took a step back.

"How about that swim?" asked Bill heavily. The moment dissolved with the question and that heart-stripping second slipped away. For Bill, it was both agony and relief.

Laura stood up and hastily wiped at her face. "I'll go change."

* * *

At the lake, Bill discovered yet another facet of Laura. She loved the water. To him, it was cold – damned cold – but there she was, completely immersed, gliding underwater like a magical selkie from one of those fairy tales his grandfather used to read to them when they were kids. Bill sat at the edge of the dock soaking up the sun with his feet in the water while she swam.

"For frak's sake, Bill, just get in all the way," said Laura as she resurfaced. Droplets of water dripped and slid down her face. She smiled. "It's really nice once you get in but you can't just ease into it. You just have to do it."

"Is that a challenge, Roslin?"

"Yes. If Kara were here, she'd tell you to stop being a girl."

"Anybody ever tell you that you're like a rabid mermaid?"

Laura tipped onto her back and floated gracefully, closing her eyes against the sun. "You're stalling, Adama."

Bill plunged into the water and went straight for Laura, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her under, not too far, just enough to give her a good dunk. They both surfaced and spluttered, circling one another in a way that Bill wasn't certain whom was chasing whom.

"I'm just reminding you that I have military training," Bill warned her as he grabbed her ankle and pulled her onto her stomach. She was a quick, slippery little thing and he lost his hold on her. She was underwater again, swimming a half circle to maneuver herself behind Bill in order to give him a push forward - but he wouldn't budge. They were both short of breath and laughing.

"Nice attempt," taunted Bill, "but you – "

"Laura! Laura!"

"Oh, my gods!" Laura swam to the shore and Bill watched as she emerged from the water to embrace the woman who had called her name. Bill followed her. He grabbed their towels on the way and handed one to Laura when he reached her.

"Thank you, Bill," said Laura, wrapping the towel around herself. "Beverly, this is Admiral Bill Adama, Kara's future father-in-law. And Bill, this is my neighbor, Beverly Cottle."

"I've known this little one since she was only five years old when her parents bought the place." Beverly slipped an arm around Laura's waist. Her accent was pure Virgon with its lush rounding of vowels and lilting cadence. Her long hair was white and wavy, held up by small combs and pins. With her high cheekbones and olive-green eyes, lightly fringed at the edges of the pupils with a deep blue, she was a very lovely woman.

"Beverly and Jack help keep an eye on the place for me," Laura explained. "And they are very dear family friends."

"How long are you staying?" asked Beverly eagerly.

"Until tomorrow morning. I stopped by to see you this morning but I must have missed you."

"We were doing some shopping in town. Oh, honey, you should have told us you were coming."

"It was a bit of an impromptu visit," explained Laura.

"You and the admiral have to stop over for dinner tonight." Beverly looked from Bill to Laura with a meaningful little twinkle in her eyes. Laura knew exactly what she was thinking and what she must be assuming about her and Bill.

"We'd love to. Kara and Lee were supposed to join us but there was a mix-up. Poor Bill hasn't had a decent meal since he got here. Completely my fault."

"Oh, we'll take care of that."

"At least let me bring dessert," offered Laura.

Beverly put a finger to Laura's lips. "Hush, love. Don't you dare bring a thing but this good-looking gentleman. Jack is going to be very happy to see you. Six 'o clock?"

"We can't wait."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very special thank you to lanalucy for the beta. Also, Beverly's nickname "Bubbles" is a direct nod to American soprano Beverly Sills who was also called "Bubbles."

“How’s the studying going?” Kara asked her fiancé in between gulps of water as she cradled the phone against her neck.

Lee yawned loudly into the mouthpiece of his own phone.  “Sorry, hon.  It’s good.  I’ve drunk so many cups of coffee that I’ve lost count.”  He rubbed his eyes and tipped his head back, stretching muscles tight from hours of leaning over law books while reading endless lines of fine print.

“Doesn’t sound like the coffee is working.  I bet I could wake you up.  I have an arsenal of methods for that, you know.”  Kara’s laugh was slow.  An undercurrent of sultry promise prowled seductively beneath the innocent words.

Lee smiled.  “You, Kara Thrace, are terrible for my grade point average.”

“Are you trying to say that I’m a distraction?

“That’s an understatement.  But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Kara looked at her watch.  “I only have a couple of more minutes; otherwise, I’d distract you thoroughly.”  She took in a quick breath.  “Have you talked to your dad this weekend?”

Lee frowned.  “No.  Is everything okay?”

“He’s in Galatea.  At the cabin.”  Kara gave a dramatic pause.  “With my mother.”

Lee sat up straighter in the chair and rubbed the flat of his palm along the length of his face making the word come out muffled.  “What?”

“I sort of invited him to spend the weekend with you and me at the cabin, leaving out the part that we really wouldn’t be there.  Mom hasn’t stayed there in years and I didn’t want her to be alone and I _know_ they like each other.  Don’t freak out.  I was merely helping fate.”

“Kara, you really need to let them figure things out on their own.  You don’t have to trick them into spending time with one another.”  Lee despised himself for the almost plaintive whine in his speech.  It was one of the many differences between them, her clear-cut directness and his softer discretion.

Storm clouds brewed, heavy and thick, in Kara’s voice.  Nothing could rile her up as much as the feeling that she was being lectured.  It brought out every rebellious streak in her nature and rebelliousness was a quality that she possessed in spades. “Do you dislike my mother, Lee?  Is that really what this is about?”

“No.  Of course not.  I love Laura.  I just –“ Lee swallowed, trying to get a handle on his thoughts.  “Your mom is working through some stuff right now.  She’s been through a lot.  They’ve _both_ been through a lot.  I just don’t think we should be pushing them into things that they might not be ready for.”

“I’m not pushing,” Kara insisted vehemently.  “I’m nudging.”

“That was a pretty big nudge.  Nudge them any harder and they’ll topple over.  I know you mean well.  I’m just not so sure I agree with your methods.”

“Sometimes, Lee, I really don’t get you.  I’d think that you’d be happy for them.”

“Kara, have you ever considered the possibility that they might uh….”  Lee cleared his throat.  “….already be involved?”

“Are you trying to tell me that the Old Man is serious about someone else?”  Kara’s water bottle made a protesting popping noise as she drained the last of its contents.

“No,” said Lee weakly.

“Well, my mother works over fifty hours a week and we tell one another about everything so – “

Lee wished that he’d kept his damned mouth shut.   He closed his eyes as he spoke, as if the action of blotting out his vision would somehow mute the words.  “At the decommissioning ceremony dinner, when you asked me to go look for Laura, I found her.  She was in the observation room with the president.  And he was kissing her.  They didn’t see me so I just slipped away unnoticed.”

Kara was quiet, which made Lee even more worried than if she’d had an immediate reaction.

“Kara?”

Her voice was non-committal.  She might as well have been discussing the weather.  “I’m here.  But I have to go, Lee.  My five minutes are up.”

* * *

 Jack Cottle was sitting on the porch on the wide cushioned swing with its fluffy array of mismatched pillows that had been gifted to him and his wife by one of the ladies across the street who loved to embroider.  There were gray elephants and shockingly pink flamingos, neon flowers and jewel-toned hummingbirds. The earlier sunshine had faded to clouds that were quickly taking over the horizon, leaving only occasional patches of blue.  Jack was half asleep when his wife pulled into the driveway.  He didn’t see or hear her until she climbed up the steps with a couple of grocery bags balanced precariously in her arms.  He quickly grabbed his book and pretended that he’d been awake and alert.

“Do you have any more bundles?” he asked drowsily, as he stood up and opened the door for her.

“Just one,” she called from inside.  “Sherman Cottle, were you smoking in the house again?”  

Sherman Jack Cottle had been going by his middle name since his early twenties and Beverly was the only person left in the twelve colonies whom he’d allow to get away with calling him by his given name, something she did only when either very irritated – or very pleased with him.  This case was most definitely the former.

“No, Bubbles,” he fibbed.   _Did half a cigarette count?  Surely not._ “I’ll get that last bag for you.”  Beverly cranked open the window by the kitchen sink with an angry turn of the lever and he could tell she wasn’t buying his little white lie.  He placed the bag on the counter and began putting away the perishables with overly solicitous care, hoping to make amends with the extra effort.

“We’re having dinner guests,” she announced, swatting his hand away from a package of orange cookies coated with chocolate – his favorite.  He’d consume half a row of those things, wouldn’t touch her dinner, and then would spend the rest of the evening grouchy from a belly ache, popping antacid like it was candy.  Jack opened the package anyway with the cheeky defiance of a five year old while he looked directly into his wife’s hazel eyes, bit into a cookie with a vengeance, and then silenced her protest with a quick chocolate-orange flavored kiss.

Not to be outdone, Beverly slipped her arms around him and grabbed the box of cookies with ninja-like dexterity and stealth while she distracted him by initiating two more exuberant kisses.  By the time her husband had turned around to reach for a second cookie, she’d slipped the box into her tote bag to hide later.

“You know I’ll find them,” scowled Jack as his hand swept along the empty countertop.

“Yes, but not before dinner,” she chirped, with that same winsome smile she’d been laying on him for the past fifty years.  It was still as potent today as it had been the first time.  He was a besotted old fool and he knew it.

Jack’s only response was a half-hearted grunt and a glare.  “Guess who’s coming to dinner?” asked his wife with the same kind of effervescent sparkle in her vivid eyes that had long ago won her the nickname “Bubbles.”

“Probably someone I don’t like.”

“Laura.  She got in Saturday morning.  And she’s bringing Admiral Adama with her.  Kara’s future father-in-law.  Oh, you can leave the peaches out.  I’m making peach cobbler for dessert.  It’s her favorite.”

“Well, I was half-right,” he complained.  “I don’t like him.  What is it, then, like a date?”

Beverly shrugged.  “You’ve never met him.  Don’t be an ass.  Well, yes, I’d assume it’s a date if she’s spending the weekend with him.”

“Laura stayed at the cabin last night?  Alone with _him?_ ”

“Yes, dear, it would seem so.  Don’t be so parochial.  She’s forty-seven years old.  I was only nineteen when –“

“I know how old you were. That was different, Bev.  It was a different time.  How long has she known him?  I don’t trust him.  Military types.  Notorious womanizers,” he rambled.

“You had a short stint in the military,” Beverly reminded her husband gently.

“It’s not the same thing,” he insisted stubbornly.

“Oh, Jack. Please behave yourself tonight.  The poor thing deserves some happiness after everything she’s been through.”  She kissed his cheek and the frothy tone disappeared.  “Now hurry up and get the hell out of my kitchen so that I can start dinner.”

“Do you want some help with dinner?” he stalled as he put away a bottle of maple syrup, scanning the pantry one more time with careful precision for the mysteriously vanished box of cookies.

Beverly narrowed her eyes at him and shooed him away.  “You can help by not helping, love.  Out, out, out.”

“I’ll be out, out, out on the porch,” Jack called to his wife.  As the screen door closed behind him, he peered down the road toward the direction of the Roslins’ cabin and watched the sky darken as he pulled on a light jacket over his t-shirt.

_Laura Roslin was back in Galatea.  It was about time.  After the accident, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to stay at the cabin.  Not overnight anyway.  She and Kara, the few times that they had spent a weekend, had stayed with him and his wife.  Beverly had welcomed them with open arms, only too happy to try to give Laura what she needed as she recovered from the aftermath of the tragedy._

_Jack could still envision Laura the way that she’d looked at the funeral in her black pant suit as she stood in the receiving line with Kara on one side and her father’s brother on the other.  Pale and hollow eyed, she’d murmured monotone half-sentences as condolences were given.  There was nothing sloping in her graceful posture, and yet she carried the appearance of someone who was barely keeping both feet on the floor.  Her voice was hardly recognizable.  It was as if the grief had stripped away the vibrant richness, leaving it diluted and faint.  Jack wasn’t a sentimental man but the image of the Roslins’ eldest daughter mourning her family would haunt his memory forever._

_She’d come back with Kara a couple of times to take care of some business from the estate._

_And once, just once by herself.  He wouldn’t forget that either._

_Jack still didn’t know what had made him stop over that night.  Even a retired doctor was on informal call in a remote place like Galatea where the nearest medical facility was miles away. He was driving home well past 2 AM after having checked on a neighbor who hadn’t been feeling well.  As he drove by the Roslins, he saw a couple of lights on and he knew that Laura was alone there.  He imagined her sitting up, sleepless, trying to cope with an overwhelming rush of feelings and memories in the empty cabin._

_So he’d stopped.  He parked the car in the driveway and knocked on the door.  No answer.  Galatea is the kind of place where people don’t lock their doors and so Jack slipped inside, calling out her name so that he wouldn’t startle her.  The kitchen and the living room were silent and empty, lights still on._

_He found her in her parents’ bedroom, lying at an odd angle diagonally across the bed.  She still wore her white silk robe over the matching nightgown.  There was a half empty glass of water and an open bottle of pills on the night side table._

_Her color was wrong.  She was ghostly pale.  Jack bent down in a panicked rush and felt her pulse as alarm quickened his own.  Slower than it should be but steady – and she felt cool.   He called her name as he gripped her shoulders and gently shook her.  His heart lurched with sudden and sharp gratitude as her eyes moved and her mouth twitched._

_“Laura, look at me,’ he growled with authority, giving her another shake, more vigorous this time.  “How many did you take?”  He pulled her into a sitting position, forcing her upright.  She murmured something incoherent as her head dipped to the side for a moment before she straightened it and tried to focus on his face._

_“How many, Laura?”  Jack grabbed the bottle with a free hand and gave it a loud shake.  It was a prescription for sleeping pills and there were only a few left at the very bottom._

_Her voice was throaty – slow and thick.  “Four.  I took four.  I just wanted to sleep for a little while.  I wasn’t trying to – “_

_“Do you realize that your frakkin’ heart could have stopped?”  He shook her again, this time in angry relief, and then pulled her hard against his chest.  “I’m calling your daughter,” he told her gruffly._

_Laura sat up a little straighter and pulled away enough so that she could look at him.  “Please don’t call Kara.  I just wanted to sleep.  Please, Jack.  Look…” She brought her hand over to the bottle of pills that he held, closing his fingers around them with her own.  “Keep them.  I didn’t mean to --.  I took one and it didn’t work so then I took another one.  And then two more.  It was stupid."  Her voice was softer.  "I just wanted to forget for a little while."  
_

_Jack slipped the bottle into his pocket.  He would flush them later.  “Stand up and walk around with me.”  He helped her stand and allowed her to lean against him, forcing her to walk around the bedroom with his assistance, not satisfied until she was steady enough to take a few steps on her own.  “I’ll help you pack a bag.  You’re not staying here alone.  Now hurry up.”_

_“Jack –“_

_“No arguments,” he rasped.  “Gods, I need a cigarette.  You drive a man to smoke.”_

_“Thank you,” she said simply, and she hugged him.  Jack put his arms around her and grunted as he hugged her back._

He’d never told anyone about that night, not even Beverly.  He’d kept Laura’s secret, and along with it, a fierce fatherly protectiveness had taken root.

In fact, the instinct was still strong.

* * *

Normally, Laura would have walked to the Cottles since they were only down the road but the sky had suddenly split open and the rain came down in slanted sheets.  She and Bill made a mad dash from the car to the porch and they were both saturated and laughing about it when Beverly opened the door for them and ushered them inside.

“The skies just opened up,” exclaimed Laura with a soggy smile.  “I forgot how heavy the rains can be up here.”

“Don’t either of you own a frakkin’ raincoat?” asked Jack.  He took in the appearance of his soaked guests while Beverly fussed over them with an armful of towels.

“I came up in such a hurry – I didn’t really think too much about what I was bringing,” explained Laura.

Beverly pinched her husband – hard -- and he emitted a low growl.  “Don’t pay any attention to him.  He’s a bear when he’s hungry.”

“Well, get over here, young lady,” said Jack as he pulled Laura into a tight and possessive hug.  He peered disapprovingly over her shoulder at Bill as he embraced the woman that he’d thought of a little bit like a daughter since the death of her parents and the loss of her sisters.

“Jack,” said Laura as he released her from the hug, “this is Admiral Bill Adama.  And Bill, this is Jack Cottle.”

The men shook hands.  Bill smiled while Jack glowered as Beverly watched the entire exchange with cautionary scrutiny, ready to rein in her husband at a moment’s notice.

She had a feeling that she’d be pinching Jack many more times during the course of the evening.

Beverly had made summertime favorites, fried chicken and potato salad, yellow squash mixed with zucchini, a garden salad, and corn on the cob drizzled with butter.

Bill observed Laura from across the table as Beverly inquired about Kara and Lee’s wedding plans.  She seemed more relaxed, certainly, than she had appeared when he’d first arrived at the cabin.  The Cottles seemed like family to her and Bill suspected that she needed family around her.  He knew that he was a poor substitute.

“The wedding will be in the spring.  Lee and Kara want something simple and small.”  Laura slid her hand across the table and squeezed Beverly’s.  “Of course you’ll be invited.  We’d love to have you.”

“Did you and Bill know one another before the engagement?” asked Beverly with a small and curious smile.

Laura shook her head.  “No.  Bill and I only met a couple of weeks ago.  Poor Bill had no idea what he was getting into this weekend.  Kara invited him to spend the weekend with her and Lee here – without telling him that what she was really doing was springing me on him.  I guess she didn’t want me to be by myself.”

Jack chuckled as he took a sip of his beer.  “Heh, that sure sounds like our Kara.”  He picked up the plate of chicken and offered it to Bill.  “Do you want to sample a breast, Admiral, or would you prefer to sink your teeth into a juicy thigh?” he asked Bill suspiciously with a quick, protective glance toward Laura.

Laura looked horrified at the thinly veiled innuendo while Beverly nearly choked on the piece of lettuce that she was chewing.  She delivered a sharp kick to her husband's leg under the table.  It had no effect.

Bill cleared his throat.  “I think I’ll just have a wing.”

Jack scowled at the deft way Bill handled himself while his wife positively beamed.  Bill caught Laura’s eye as he placed the chicken wing on his plate and he liked what he saw there, a sparkle of amusement and a soft admiration – for him.  Her look warmed him, seeping into corridors of his heart that had long ago been abandoned, to forgotten places that had turned to ruins after things had fallen apart with Carolanne.  It was such new and unexpected territory, feeling like this again.  He hadn’t thought that he was capable of it anymore.  There was a part of him, in fact, that wished that he weren’t -- and another part that never wanted it to stop.

The rest of the evening meandered along a bit more smoothly.  Jack relaxed a little after the meal was over, although Bill still got the feeling that if the retired doctor could get a moment alone with him, he’d resort to any and every interrogation tactic known to man – and maybe even invent a few new ones – if it meant that he’d get some straight answers about Bill’s intentions toward Laura.  They left the Cottles with plastic storage containers full of leftovers and heartfelt invitations to return again, sooner rather than later.

* * *

 A different kind of awkwardness settled over Bill and Laura when they finally returned to her cabin, as they shuffled past one another in the small hallway, as they bumped shoulders when they both made a simultaneous beeline for the bathroom.  The cabin space seemed to have suddenly shrunk.  Laura felt as if Bill were everywhere at once – but somehow never close enough.

“I’m going to head to bed, Bill,” said Laura from the threshold of her bedroom while Bill leaned against the doorway of his.  Her eyes rested a little too long on the outline of his chest, just visible under the blue t-shirt, before she finally met his eyes.  He didn’t notice though.  He was too busy admiring the curved slope of her neck against the white silk of her robe, too preoccupied by the way the hall light enhanced the russet and gold in her hair.

 Bill’s mouth was dry and the words came out in a deep rumble.  “Bed.  Yeah.  Me, too.”

 “Do you want a wake-up call in the morning?” she asked.

 Bill didn’t answer.  He couldn’t answer because he was thinking about morning activities that had absolutely nothing to do with the tick of a clock.

 “Bill?”

 “Yes.  I mean – no.  I don’t usually have a problem getting up.  Out of bed.  Getting up out of bed.  In the morning.  All those years in the military.  I kind of developed my own internal clock.”  Bill forced a smile in her general direction because he couldn’t look at her.  “Well -- goodnight, Laura.”

 “Goodnight, Bill," echoed Laura.


	15. Chapter 15

When Laura woke up the following morning, she was vaguely aware of the aroma of fresh coffee brewing.  At first, she thought that it was just wishful thinking, a simple case of the caffeine-addicted synapses of her brain firing with eager anticipation of scoring an early morning fix.  But as she slipped out of bed and navigated drowsily to the sunlit kitchen, the scent of coffee grew more pronounced.  As the shock of cold tile pressed against her bare feet, she heard the first creak of the coffee pot as she entered the kitchen.  Her dawning realization that Bill had put a pot of coffee on for them was confirmed when she saw the friendly glow of the familiar orange light on the side of the machine.

She found the Admiral in the living room sitting cozily in her father’s favorite chair.  He was reading the newspaper, legs stretched out languidly with a carefree air of relaxation.  It struck Laura how perfectly Bill fit in that spot.  He inhabited the space like it was long-familiar, like he’d spent countless mornings brewing coffee just for the two of them while she caught a few extra minutes of sleep.   She couldn’t explain why she found the notion so appealing.  

Bill was fully dressed  in a black shirt, a pair of jeans, and brown boots that looked like they had never been worn.  Laura suspected that Bill hadn’t had many opportunities to wear hiking boots with all of those months on a ship.  They suited him though.  She regretted the fact that she hadn’t gotten a chance to take him out to the trails.

He looked….good.

“Good morning, Laura,” Bill moved the paper aside to glance at her with an easy smile.

Laura had been so deep in thought when he spoke that she was almost startled, but she recovered herself smoothly.  Years of political gymnastics had its benefits..  “Hello, Bill.  Sleep well?”

 _No, he hadn’t slept well._  Bill had spent a greater part of the night suppressing his body’s desire for the woman in front of him who currently regarded him with such placid coolness that it was almost maddening.  Bill almost laughed when he thought of how ridiculous he must have looked tossing and turning throughout the night in that small twin bed.  Saul had been right after all.  He _did_ have a thing for Laura Roslin, gods help him -- and he’d been over it again and again in his head during those interminable hours of restless arousal, carefully delineating all of the reasons that he shouldn’t pursue this.  His resolve to push down the attraction was so much easier in theory than in practice, especially when Laura was standing there at the edge of the living room, still dressed for bed in that silky white slip of a nightgown and the more modest robe that covered it, with a tousled chaos of red hair that was even more enticing than normal, which was saying a lot.

“I slept like a log,” lied Bill.  “You?”

“Oh...fine,” answered Laura evasively.  Mounting grief hadn’t kept her up this time.  Her fitful night had other causes that Laura preferred to ignore.  She was becoming quite adept at circumventing her feelings for Bill, at appearing neutral when she really wasn’t.  She had always had a talent for intellectualizing her emotions, a characteristic that she had probably inherited from her mother.  Laura still felt overwhelmed by the repercussions of her affair with Richard, only recently truly severed, and she mistrusted her instincts because of it.  If she’d been so wrong about him, about _them_ , how could she really be sure that what she was beginning to feel for Bill wasn’t equally misguided?

She was still trying to navigate through years of pent up grief -- that Bill had helped her through with towering unconditional support -- a vague voice in her head reminded her.  But for all of that, the timing was bad; Kara was going to marry his son for gods sake.  She didn’t want to enter into another physical relationship simply to cope with the trauma of her family’s passing.  Bill deserved more than that.  She needed to keep a clear head and she needed to be cautious.  She wanted to get back to the sanctum of her little apartment in Caprica City so that she could sort through the tumult of emotions and decide how to proceed.  It was all very logical, she assured herself.

“You made coffee,” observed Laura obliquely, just to have something to say while she was distracted by thoughts of Bill.

“I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.  I like coffee.  Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Laura wondered if she was having a hot flash as she stepped away from Bill to head into the kitchen to pour the coffee.  Her face felt flushed.  She stood on her tiptoes and grabbed a couple of mugs from an upper cupboard.  The second mug that she grasped had a photograph of her father and her with her sisters, all glowing smiles, when they were little girls. The words _World’s Greatest Dad_ were printed underneath the picture.  The mug had been part of a Father’s Day present, accompanied by a garish gold and purple tie with a stripe of piano keys down the middle that Edward Roslin had worn proudly.  Laura hastily put away her father’s mug and made another selection.

“How do you like it, Bill?” Laura called as she placed a pale blue mug on the countertop.

“What?”

His voice was so unexpectedly close, Laura jumped.  She hadn’t realized that Bill had followed her into the kitchen.  

Bill was instantly contrite.  “Sorry, Laura.  I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Laura stiffened.  “It’s all right.  Your coffee.  How do you like your coffee?”

 _His coffee.  Of course, she meant his coffee._  “Black.”

Laura poured steaming coffee into the mug.  “That’s easy enough.”  She placed the coffee in front of him.

“Thanks.”  Bill took a long, easy sip of the scalding beverage as he watched her pour her own mug of coffee, adding cream but no sugar.

“You’re like my dad,” commented Laura, “He could always gulp down hot beverages while the rest of us were burning our tongues.”

“Yeah.  I’m always warm. Hot-blooded, I guess.  You know what they say about Taurons.”  Bill cringed, wishing that he could stop the avalanche of misfired words.    _Shut up, Bill._

Laura looked amused as she quirked an eyebrow.  “What do they say?”

Bill practically chugged his coffee.  He nearly choked on it as he floundered.  “That we have a high tolerance for heat.”

“Ah.”  Laura regarded him skeptically.

Gods, but she almost sounded disappointed by his answer.  Bill knew that he had to get out of there before he said something else that he’d regret.  Or worse yet, _do_ something else that he’d regret.  “Look, Laura, I’m going to get out of your hair.  Get on the road, give you some time to yourself.  Thanks for a nice weekend.  It was good to get away and the company was….nice.”  His words were as hurried as the skittering pace of his pulse.  He was too old for this.  Much too old.

“Bill,” said Laura softly with a sincerity that suddenly made him ache, “I’m the one that should be thanking _you_.”

He wasn’t certain which one of them had initiated the embrace but he suddenly found his arms full of Laura Roslin, his chin pressed against her shoulder.  He released her after a few moments, not because he really wanted to, but because it was the polite thing to do.  To his surprise, she was still holding onto him and it threw him.  When she did finally let go, as Bill reflexively released her, he leaned in to kiss her cheek.  It would all be a blur later, but somehow the intended cheek-kiss landed directly on her mouth instead. The chaste kiss that they shared may as well have been an inferno for all of the mutual awkwardness that ensued after the innocently brief exchange.  They avoided eye contact and murmured faint goodbyes, coffees forgotten, as they both extricated themselves as quickly as possible from the botched kiss-that-shouldn’t-have-been and the manifold implications that accompanied it.

Laura watched from the window as Bill headed out to his car and she was overwhelmed by the feeling that there was something else that she wanted to say to him.  Her eyes followed his truck as he backed out of the driveway and pulled away.  She packed up her things immediately after that.  The cabin felt too empty in the wake of his departure and she felt hollowed out by it.  When he’d been there, the place had begun to feel like home again.  But in his absence, that claustrophobic, heart-heavy feeling began to close in around her.  The sensation was reminiscent of the way she’d felt the night she’d reached for that bottle of sleeping pills, praying for a few moments of oblivion. That sense of rightness that she’d felt as she’d watched Bill sitting comfortably reading the newspaper in her father’s chair -- was gone.  She felt lonely again, which was not an unusual feeling for her.  In fact, Laura had become accustomed to the pervasive feeling of loneliness so much that it had shifted into a dull kind of ambient numbness.   But this unforgiving loneliness was very specific. _She missed Bill._

The notion wasn’t something that she was even remotely ready to face.

* * *

 

Laura made excellent time on the Sunday morning drive home.  Aside from the lightness of the traffic, she was so immersed in thoughts about her weekend with the Admiral that the minutes just whizzed by like passing cars.  Laura didn’t bother turning on the air conditioner.  The recent rain had cooled off Friday’s oppressive humidity, even as she neared the city, and the air from outside felt amazing as it whipped through her hair. The only remnants of the heavy rain were the occasional patches of wet pavement while the sky overhead was a crisp, clear blue.

The security guard at the desk in Laura’s lobby stopped her as she entered the building and handed her a vase of wilting summer flowers that had arrived Friday afternoon.  Laura hastily read the small card tucked neatly into the arrangement.   _Wishing you much success as you embark on the next phase of your journey. - Richard._  Laura snorted as she crinkled up the small card.  Richard was such a consummate politician.  It was probably just a last-ditch effort to secure her vote.  He was so predictable.  Laura stopped at the ground floor restroom, dumped out the water and then threw the entire thing into the nearest trash receptacle.  She wondered how she was going to manage going through the motions as she finished out her term.

Unpacking was easy; Laura hadn’t brought much to the cabin.  As she reached the very bottom of her duffle bag, she pulled out two hardcover books, the one she had brought with her and a second book she didn’t recognize.  She must have grabbed it at the cabin.  Opening the inside cover, she noticed the unfamiliar handwriting that spelled out the name _Bill Adama._  Laura must have picked up Bill’s book without even realizing it.  Laura was contemplating how she was going to return it when her cell phone rang.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Laura said to Kara as she put the book down on her bed and picked up a couple of pairs of clean socks to return to her drawer.

“So how angry are you over the surprise I sent your way this weekend, on a scale of one to ten?” asked Kara.

“A solid eleven,” said Laura. But she didn’t sound upset.

“I want to hear all about it.  Can I come over?”

Laura smiled into the phone.  “Of course you can.  I’ve missed you.  Did everything go okay with your training?  I want to hear all about your weekend, too.”

“It went fine, Mom. It wasn’t very exciting.   I’ll be there in a few, okay?”

“Okay.”

* * *

 

Laura was sitting in a dining room chair with one of Kara’s jackets over her lap and a sewing needle in her hand as she meticulously sewed back on the first of two missing buttons.  Her daughter was sitting on the floor squeezing a stress ball and then alternatively tossing it up in the air and catching it.  From the time she was a little girl, Kara had always preferred the floor over furniture and she liked to have her hands occupied.  When the cold weather had come, Laura and Kara would have frequent and rather elaborate indoor carpet picnics complete with paper flowers scattered on the floor and multicolored stained glass butterflies hanging from the ceiling.  Laura smiled at the memory.

“I’ve never seen anyone lose as many buttons as you do.  It really makes one wonder about standard military issue clothing quality.”

“All Lee’s fault,” giggled Kara with a meaningful glance at her mother.

“I suspect that this is a TMI conversation,” said Laura archly as she paused for a moment when Kara’s explanation sunk in.

“Probably.  So….did you have a nice time in Galatea?”

“Yes, actually.  It was pleasant -- mostly pleasant..  Bill and I were amicable, given the circumstances of two practical strangers spending the weekend together in an isolated mountain cabin.”

“I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“I know.  You were right.”

Kara grinned.  “Can you say that again, please?”

Laura tossed the jacket at her daughter’s head with a playful smile and then slunk down onto the floor next to her.

“He’s an interesting man,” Laura admitted as she tucked in her feet.  “I think I see the appeal.”

“Can I ask you something, Mom?”

Laura could tell from Kara’s tone that the question would be a more serious one than the lighter conversation that preceded it.  “Of course you can.”

“You and the President...how long?”

“How did you -- “

“During the cancer treatments, he sent you boatloads of flowers.  Flowers that made you sick.”  Kara scowled.  “And I remember the phone calls.  Private ones that you always had to take into another room.  So when Lee confessed that he saw you two together, I really wasn’t that surprised.  Disappointed that you didn’t tell me.  But  not really surprised.”

“We’ve been on-again, off-again for a long time but it’s finally over.  It’s been over for months, really.  Lee saw us together?”

“In the observation room on _Galactica._  Lee said that you were kissing him.  You sure it’s really over?”

“We argued,” Laura remembered.  “I made it clear to Richard that we truly are finished.  He kissed me goodbye.”  Laura shook her head.  “Of all things, Lee would walk in on that.”  

“You know, my friends always tell me how much they envy our relationship.  How close we are, how we share things, and how great it is.  And there are these two huge things happening in your life, a long term affair with the President of the Twelve frakkin’ Colonies and your cancer, and you don’t tell me.  It’s like you have this whole other life, this other you that I don’t know at all.  I’m not a little kid.  I wouldn’t have judged you.  Is that why you kept it a secret?”

“I didn’t tell you because it’s not exactly something you want to share with your daughter.  I’m not proud of it, Kara.  It was a mistake.”

“You can make mistakes.  You can be human.  You can admit that you’re sad or depressed or upset or developing feelings for your boss.”  Kara looked directly into her mother’s eyes.  “Or that you’re sick.  You keep everything in and I just let it all spill out.  I’m an open book and you’re like a steel lockbox with a big padlock.”

“I’ll trade you?”  Laura wrapped her arms around Kara and pulled her into a sideways hug.  “I’m sorry.  No more bombshells, okay?  I do have another secret, as long as we’re in this sharing mode.”

“Lay it on me,” said Kara cautiously.

“I’m getting out of politics.  I’m finishing up my term and that’s it.  I think I might even go back to teaching piano, spending more time up at the cabin, working less.  I played a little bit again while I was there and it felt really...good.”

Kara’s brown eyes widened.  “Wow, Mom, that’s huge.”

“Bill was very helpful.  We talked a lot about grief.  I was pretty awful to him at the beginning of the weekend.  He probably had a terrible time.”

“I doubt that,” said Kara wryly.  “He got you playing again.”  Kara’s smile grew and grew.  “You really like him.”

“Yes, I really do like Bill,” Laura admitted slowly.  It was strange to say it out loud.  Strange and undeniable and unexpected.  And wonderful.

_“And?”_

“And what?”

Kara rolled her eyes.  “You spent a weekend with him.  Did you -- “

“No!  Absolutely not.  Of course not.  It’s terrible timing.  I don’t feel ready for this, Kara.  First of all, I don’t want to cause any problems for you and Lee.  I mean, already, look….Lee thinks….oh, my gods, Lee must that think that I’m -- “

“I’ll talk to Lee.  Lee will understand.  Mom, you haven’t done anything wrong.”  Kara was thoughtful for a moment.  “You know, the Admiral is just getting re-acquainted with Caprica.  I bet he’d find a certain red-headed tour guide to be a big asset.”

“Well, actually, along that train of thought, I picked up a book belonging to him by mistake at the cabin and only just discovered it in my duffel bag.  I was thinking that returning it might be a casual opportunity to see if there is any reciprocal interest.”

“ _Reciprocal interest_ ,” mimicked Kara with an amused grin.  “You and your euphemisms.  I’ll leave his address on the counter before I go.  You could be ‘in the neighborhood’ and just happen to stop by to return his book.”

“You wouldn’t be upset, then, if I pursued this?  Not that I’m saying that I’m going to.  This is all speculative.”

“No, Mom.  I’d be happy.  I’ve only been _throwing_ you two together.  Not that you needed much help.  It’s been obvious since that night we had dinner together at Altura that you two have the hots for each other.  You’re both just so frakkin’ stubborn, neither of you will admit it.”  Kara grabbed her mended jacket and stood up.  “I promised I’d meet Lee at the fountain for a run.  You should hold onto that needle and thread.  If the Admiral is anything like his son, you might have to fix a few buttons of your own.”

Laura covered her ears.  “I’m going to pretend that I didn’t hear that.”

 

* * *

 

Saul and Ellen had stopped by with some housewarming presents for Bill:  a coffee pot, several odds and ends to decorate Bill’s bathroom, and some little plug-in room deodorizers that made the apartment smell like a laundromat, not that Bill minded.  It was a fresh, comforting scent -- the gifts were Ellen’s idea, no doubt.  Bill wasn’t really much for decorating so he especially appreciated her efforts, which saved him from having to worry so much about it.

Ellen was standing on a chair in his kitchen re-hanging Bill’s curtains.   “You can fix a Raptor but you can’t hang a straight pair of curtains,” she teased good-naturedly.

Saul opened up a bag of tortilla chips with a loud crackle.  “I want to hear more about this weekend with Roslin,” he grinned as he crunched loudly on a chip.

“I already told you.  It was fine.  It was a surprise -- for both of us -- but we didn’t kill one another.  Actually, we got along well.  Mostly.”  Bill suppressed a laugh as he recalled her narrowed green eyes glittering with irrepressible ire during that first moment when she’d spotted him on her doorstep.  

Ellen stepped off of the chair and admired her handiwork.  “Much, much better.”  She turned to Bill.  “So, did you two finally frak?”

Bill was more than used to Ellen’s bluntness so the question wasn’t a surprise.  “No.  Of course we didn’t.”

“You know, Bill,” said Ellen, “sometimes you just have to frak first and then figure out all of the other stuff later.”  She kissed her husband on the cheek.  “It worked for us.”

“This isn’t open for discussion,” said Bill, definitively closing the subject with an angry glare..  “Did you bring the cards?” he growled.

“You’re a cranky son-of-a-bitch when you’re not getting any.  Ellen has them.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You said that you were going to toss them in your purse.”

“No, I didn’t.  I told _you_ that they were in my beige purse _upstairs_ and you said that you’d grab them.”

“I did not -- “

Bill’s apartment buzzer chimed, interrupting their bickering.

Ellen sauntered over to the security panel to see who was downstairs.  She smiled widely as she peered at the screen.  “It’s Laura Roslin,” she sang.

“Very funny, Ellen.  Buzz _Laura Roslin_ in,” said Bill.

“Yes, Sir,” answered Ellen with a spritely smile as she hit the button with a flourish.

Bill really should have believed Ellen, he thought, as he watched the Secretary of Education enter his apartment.  Ellen gave him a triumphant smile from her position behind Laura who looked summery and fresh in her coral colored peasant top and white jeans.  She was carrying a book.

“Hi, Bill.  I’m sorry to drop in on you but I had to run a few errands anyway so I figured I’d get your book back to you.  I must have picked it up by mistake.  Sorry.  Nothing worse than being in the middle of a good story and not being able to finish it.”

She handed him his book.  _So that's where it had gone._   Bill had known he’d packed it.  He smiled at her.  “Thanks, Laura.  You didn’t have to do that.  You remember Saul Tigh from the decommissioning ceremony?”

“Of course.  Good afternoon, Colonel.”

Saul waved.  “Call me Saul.”

“And this is his wife, Ellen.”

“Good to meet you, Laura,” said Ellen graciously.  “Bill has had very nice things to say about you.  Congratulations about Lee and Kara.”

“Thank you.”

“You have perfect timing,” added Ellen hurriedly.  “Saul and I were just leaving.”

“We were -- “  Ellen elbowed her husband with brute force, effectively silencing his protest.  “ -- yeah, we were on our way out,” he finished.

“Laura,” added Ellen, as she grabbed her purse and Saul’s arm, “Bill and Saul and I often go out for drinks together on a Friday evening.  You should join us.  Bill is like family and pretty soon, you’re going to be family, too, so we’d love to have you.”

“That sounds like fun.  I’d like that.”

Ellen kissed Bill quickly on the cheek before dragging Saul out of the apartment.

And for the second time in the short space of a weekend, Bill found himself alone again with Laura Roslin.

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

Laura stood in the entryway of Bill’s apartment and watched as Saul and Ellen slinked past her with knowing and conspirational grins.  She felt a little bit like the world was watching, only rather than finding it disorienting, it made her feel like she was part of a family again.  Saul and Ellen obviously cared about Bill -- just as Kara cared about her.  They meddled and cajoled _because_ they cared.  Laura missed her family so much that the longing inside her was like a living, breathing thing, and this hint of well-intentioned familial interloping made Laura feel less adrift.  It was as if she were coming back together again, slowly, and piece by piece.

“Come on in, Laura,” said Bill.  “You hungry?  We were having some snacks when you arrived.”

Bill closed the door and Laura stepped fully into his apartment.  It was neat and clean but it had that overly shiny look of a place that was still getting worn in, like a too-new pair of shoes.  Laura noticed that the kitchen table was spread with dips and crackers, chips, appetizers, and a plate of brownies.  The food looked largely untouched.  It implied the beginning of a get-together rather than an ending, and Laura surmised that the Tighs’ departure had been premature.

“No, thanks, Bill.  I’m not hungry.  It looks like your guests weren’t very hungry either,” mused Laura.  “Unless you’re expecting someone else?”

“No.  No one else.”  Bill hesitated; there was an awkward pause.   “You know, I was looking everywhere for that book,” he informed her as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

Laura laughed.  “I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s all right, Laura.  You had a lot on your mind and it’s really not a big deal.  I’ve got a whole shelf full of books here.  I’ll show you.”  Bill moved toward her and placed a guiding hand against the small of her back, directing her into the living room.  There were still a few unpacked boxes, half opened, strewn by the edge of the right hand wall.  He pushed one of the ones that was sticking out back a bit so that the path was clearer.  Suddenly, Bill bent down to pick up a piece of white fabric that Laura was relatively certain was a pair of boxer shorts that had fallen on the floor and then gotten wedged in between the two boxes.  But he retrieved the mysterious garment and stuffed it down into one of the boxes so quickly that Laura wasn’t completely positive.  Her suspicion, however, was confirmed when his deep blue eyes met her green ones. She was certain because of the way he seemed to be seeking a reaction from her in his searching look.  Laura couldn’t help but smile, half amusement, half something else. Her pulse danced.  She watched as Bill released a breath.

“I see that you unpacked your books first,” remarked Laura hastily to fill the gap in conversation, as she peered at the shelf with its symmetrical rows of books, all neatly arranged.

“Yeah.  I have my priorities straight.”  Bill wasn’t looking at the bookshelf when he said it; he was looking at her.

“You’ve always loved to read?”  She met his gaze, head on, as she ran the tip of a finger against the wooden shelf.

“Yeah,” said Bill as he watched the motion of her hand..  “Deep space can get pretty dull when we’re working off generators and have to conserve electricity.  It’s always good to have a book on hand.  You had quite a collection of books at the cabin, too, I noticed.”

“Mmmm.  My dad and I were the big readers in the family.  You could have borrowed anything there that you liked.”  

“I never borrow or lend books.  But I do give them as gifts.”  Bill gestured to the shelf.  “Take one.”

“I couldn’t do that,” protested Laura.

“Sure you could.”  Bill plucked one of his favorite books, _Searider Falcon_ , off of the shelf and handed it to her.  “It’s one of my favorites.”

Laura offered a slow smile as she glanced from the book to his face and then back again.

“Mine, too,”  Laura marveled.  She examined the cover of the novel before opening and closing it, inhaling the scent of paper and well-loved words.  The fabric of the spine was flexible and worn.  Images of Bill reading flashed across her mind.  She imagined what his hands would look like holding the book in between them, fingers caressing the edges, leafing through the pages.  She handed the book back to him.

“You mean you've read it?”  Bill asked her, equally astonished.

“Several times..  My copy is in about the same shape as yours.  While I appreciate the gesture of a gift, I really think that you should start a new tradition of borrowing and lending books.  It’s a good cubit-saver and friends enjoy lending to one another.”

Bill considered her proposal, his face intent in that serious, almost stoic way of his.  He returned _Searider Falcon_ to the shelf.   “I’ll agree to lend you a book, Laura,” said Bill softly in his deep voice.  “Of course, that means that you’d have to come back here to return it.”

“Yes, I would, wouldn’t I?”  Laura replied, her voice low.  Bill was looking at her so intently that she lost her focus for a moment and had to look away.  She noticed two small figurines on the top of the bookshelf and she picked one up.  It was a small clay bear sitting up on its haunches and it looked like something that the small hands of a child had made -- but she could definitely make out the bear shape with its rounded ears and big paws.

“Lee made that,” explained Bill, “in second grade.  Bet you can’t guess what the other one is.”

Laura put the bear down and picked up the other figurine. Tiny fingers had bunched the pieces of clay together to form a face, body, feet, and a tail but the amorphous figure was impossible to distinguish any kind of animal.  Laura turned it over and could see remnants of dried glue where it had been lovingly mended many times throughout the years.

“A platypus?” guessed Laura with a questioning shrug of her shoulders.

“A wolverine,” said Bill.  They both chuckled.  “Zak made that.  If his big brother had a project for school, he had to make one, too.  I always kept those with me on _Galactica._  They made good paper weights in my office.  I felt like this was the right spot for them.  After Zak passed, it took me a while to be able to have his things around.”

“Oh, Bill, I’m sorry.  It’s easier to have mementos around now?”

“Yeah. I like remembering.  The ache doesn’t ever go away but there’s such a big part of remembering that’s good.  It’s like having a piece of Zak that’s always with me -- you know, in the memories.  I don’t want to lose that.”

“I hope I get there someday.  I’d like to have more of the family’s things around me, too.”

Bill placed a hand under her chin and tilted her face up, just a fraction.  “You will.”  And suddenly his arms were around her and hers were around him.  It was nice to be held like that, by someone who wasn’t asking anything from her.  All of those reasons that she’d been over in her mind about how and why she shouldn’t give in to her feelings for Bill, eroded a little more.  Laura released a long sigh and surrendered to the rightness of the moment.  It was a relief to share all of this with someone who understood; she felt less alone.  Bill imbued her with hope.

Laura took in a big breath.  She'd never ask him if she didn't do it now.“I think I’m going to go back to the cabin next weekend and go through their things.  Would you --”

“Yes,” said Bill as he rubbed her back.  “Whatever you need, Laura.”

They shifted apart.  “I should go, Bill.  I just wanted to get your book back to you.”

Bill pulled a book from the shelf.  “I think you’re forgetting something.  Here. Borrow this one.  It’s a page-turner.”

Laura glanced at the title.  " _Blackbird?"_

“You haven’t read that one, too, have you?” grinned Bill.

Laura smiled.  “No.  Thank you, Bill.  I’ll take good care of it.”

“I know you will.  Let me walk you out.”

He made a motion for her to walk in front of him.  As they reached the door of his apartment, Laura turned around and kissed him goodbye on the cheek.  It just seemed like the right thing to do and she followed the impulse.

The man certainly had a knack for shattering her resolve to keep her distance.  She was failing miserably.

* * *

Bill whistled as he worked on a broken console, expertly replacing damaged wires or tightening loose ones as he knelt on the floor of the cockpit.  He and Saul had just overhauled the engine to the old model Zephyr, a spacious luxury ship perfect for off-world travel for those who could afford it.

“This isn’t a bad gig,” murmured Bill to Saul as his friend returned with a couple of bottles of water for the two of them.  “Air conditioned workspace, short work week, and nobody on your back.”

“Told you,” said Saul as he opened up his bottle.  “I knew I had to do _something_ after I retired.  Ellen and I would probably kill one another if we had to be home together constantly.  You’re awfully jolly for a man who claims that your little Sunday afternoon alone time with Madame Secretary was perfectly innocent.”

Bill shrugged.  "It was."

"Why are you taking things so slowly with her?”

“We’ve only known one another for about a month.  We haven’t even gone out on a real date yet.”

“You spent a weekend with her, Bill.  You’d better be careful or you’re going to get relegated to the friend zone.”

“I’m not worried,” said Bill calmly.

“Ellen’s been pestering me about Friday.  Did you invite her out for drinks with us?”

“She can’t this Friday. She’s going to the cabin again.”

“You should come then -- “

“I can’t either.”  Bill suddenly seemed to be fascinated with the pair of pliers in his hand.  “I’m going with her.”

“Sounds like a date to me,” huffed Saul with widened eyes.  “You sure you haven’t even kissed her yet?”

“What is this, eighth grade?  No.  And it’s not a date.  We’re just going as friends.  I’m just offering some moral support.” Bill wouldn’t even try to begin to explain the awkward semblance of a kiss they’d exchanged at the cabin and Laura’s lovely cheek-kiss wasn’t up for discussion either.  Some things simply didn’t warrant explaining, even to his best friend.  Bill knew that Saul’s teasing wasn’t just a male thing about encouraging him to take Laura to bed; Saul wanted him to be happy.  Bill tolerated the teasing because he understood the subtext, although the frequent discussions about Laura and sex weren’t exactly helping him stick to his resolve to take things slowly.

“Moral support,” scoffed Saul.  “I just know how overly cautious you are since Carolanne, and I haven’t seen you this serious about a woman since -- well -- since ever.  How is Carolanne these days?”

“She’s fine.  I hear she’s fine.  Her and her husband.  I’m not going to make the same mistakes again.  Everything with Carolanne was so rushed and a lot of that was my fault.  I was young and impulsive.”   _And very much in love.  Blinded by it._   He had fallen hard for his ex-wife in those magical early days of their relationship.  “We shouldn’t have gotten married so fast.  And being in the military gave me a great excuse to gloss over our problems.  I was away a lot.  I wasn’t always...oh, hell, Saul, I don’t want to talk about Carolanne.”  

Saul put his hands up in mock surrender.  “Okay, okay.  You don’t have to tell me twice.  But don’t think that just because you’re sneaking off to Galatea for a little rendezvous with Roslin this weekend means that you’re going to escape going out with me and Ellen.”

Bill sighed.  “I’ll ask her.  We’ll see if we can do it next Friday. Anything to get you to stop pestering me,” grumbled Bill.

Saul’s lips spread into a wide grin.  “Listen to you.   _We._  Oh, you’ve got it bad and that ain’t good,” sang Saul.

“Oh, shut up,” said Bill. 

* * *

Laura was so busy at work that the week just flew past.  She had little time to second guess herself for plunging headfirst off the precipice and inviting Bill to spend another weekend with her at the cabin.  Richard had been called away to meet with the delegate for Saggitaron, the outspoken Tom Zarek, who was very irate over the planet’s statistically large percentage of blue collar jobs compared to wealthier planets like Caprica and Virgon.  Richard had gone off-world to meet with Zarek and other Saggitarion officials in hopes of smoothing ruffled feathers.  The controversy gave Laura a few days where she was absolutely certain that she wouldn’t be running into the president. 

To Billy's surprise, Laura took a couple of hours of vacation and left work early to get ready for her weekend.  Her early departure was a rarity; she usually looked for excuses to stay at work.  Rather than take separate cars to the cabin, Bill had offered to drive them there in his truck.  They had a small hitch in the proceedings at the last minute.  Kara had completely forgotten to tell her mother that she wanted her to stop at a local bakery with her and Lee to try some wedding cakes on Friday afternoon.  Bill had been extremely accommodating and promised that they would stop there before heading to the cabin, easily adapting to the change in plans.

* * *

Kara and Lee sat cozily in a corner of the little bakery called _Hestia’s Hearth_ sipping cups of steaming cinnamon topped cappuccino, playing cards, and waiting for their parents to arrive.  There was a festival this weekend at the River Walk so the little bakery wasn’t crowded but it had been difficult to find parking.  Lee didn’t mind waiting for Laura, although he was pretty surprised when Kara had told him that his father was coming, too.  And even more stunned when she informed him that the two of them were returning to the cabin for another weekend.

He still worried a little bit about his father getting hurt but Kara had briefly explained, during their run last week, that her mother was no longer seeing the president.  Lee, frankly, was relieved to put the whole thing behind them.  He still felt conflicted about having disclosed to Kara what he’d seen, especially considering how upset she’d been.  Kara had never had a real father. Although she’d never admit it in a million years, Lee knew that she was secretly enchanted with the idea of their parents uniting because of the sense of family it implied -- as well as wanting to see her mother happy.  Lee still had his doubts about how well suited their parents were for one another but he did like Laura and he hoped that things would work out.

Kara won the fifth game of _Vulcan’s Hammer_ , a silly kids’ card game they were playing for fun to pass the time.  Lee rolled his eyes at her as he laid his cards down with a sigh.

“You know, you, you’re not fooling anybody,” he told her.

Kara offered her most disarming smile and raised her eyebrows innocently.  “What?”

“I see you stacking the cards.”

Kara giggled.  “I was waiting for you to notice.”

“I noticed the first hand,” protested Lee.  “I was hoping to beat you anyway, teach you a lesson, and put an end to your reign of terror.”

“I don’t cheat in a real game,” Kara assured him.

Lee grinned.  “Oh, I know.  There’d be no reason to.  And that’s exactly the reason I never play _Triad_ with you.”

The bell on the bakery shop door jangled and Lee watched as Bill and Laura entered the bakery.  His father didn’t notice them right away because he only had eyes for Laura, who was walking in front of him.

“Sorry we’re late,” said Laura as she put her arms around Kara’s shoulders.  Lee observed that there was something almost child-like about the way Kara looked at her mother.  She adored her.  The softness was such a contrast to Kara’s usual tough-as-nails demeanor.  The two of them could have entire conversations that Lee couldn’t even begin to understand, full of inside jokes and little references that only the two of them could decipher.  There were still a lot of things that Kara had never talked to him about regarding her biological mother, not that he felt that she had to go into detail about the abuse.  But watching Kara with Laura always tugged at Lee’s heart a little bit. He was glad that they were so close.

Laura leaned over and gave Lee a peck on the cheek.  “Traffic was terrible  I hope you weren't waiting long.”

“No worries, Laura,” Lee assured her.  “Kara and I were just chatting and playing cards.”

“You have to watch her,” said Laura, “she cheats.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Lee.  

Kara swatted her fiancé.  “I’m going to grab the cake samples.”

While Kara was taking care of getting the samples of wedding cake, Lee had an opportunity to observe his father and Laura as they chatted with him.  They seemed more at ease, certainly, than they had been at dinner but they both seemed inordinately aware of the other’s space; that telltale awkwardness that had been there when they’d danced together at the decommissioning ceremony still prevailed.  At the time, Lee had read it as them simply having personalities that clashed.  But as he watched his father edging his way past Laura to order them a couple of coffees, taking great pains not to even accidentally touch her, Lee began reading it in a whole new light.

With Kara and his father at the counter, Lee found himself alone with Laura.  She sat down across from him and glanced over at Kara and his dad, before leaning toward him and lowering her voice.  “Lee,” she began, “I’m sure this is probably a little awkward for you after you saw -- “

Lee immediately interrupted her.  “It’s fine, Laura.  Really.  You don’t have to explain anything.”

Laura fiddled with the edge of the plastic tablecloth.  He’d never seen her fidget with anything before.  She was always so poised.  “Your father has been very supportive as I’ve been trying to work through some unresolved grief over the accident.  We’re friends, Lee, and I would never do anything to hurt him.”

“I know, Laura.  I’m happy for you and for him.”  His blue eyes sparkled.  “I’m rooting for you -- for both of you -- however things turn out.”

“Always the diplomat,” smiled Laura, meeting his gaze.

Lee laughed.  “I mean it.”

“I know you do.  Thank you, Lee.”  Laura gave him a maternal hug and as her chin rested briefly on his shoulder, she whispered in his ear, “I’m glad you’re going to be joining the family.”

Laura released him.  Lee understood then why Kara fell so easily under the spell of her mother as he found himself a little choked up.  Oh, his dad was in big trouble, he thought wryly.

Kara returned with samples of cake and Bill followed shortly after with a coffee for him and Laura.  The plates had four different types of cake for them to try in miniature samples.

“What do we start with?” asked Bill.

“Try this one first,” advised Kara, pointing to a white cake with white frosting.  “It’s the best one,” she encouraged.

They each took bites of cake.  Bill gave a cursory nod.  “Eh, it’s okay.”

Kara let out a loud laugh as Lee and her mother reached for napkins and coffees.

“Black licorice,” spluttered Lee as he chugged his cappuccino.  “Yuck.  I hate black licorice.”

“ _Anisette,_ ” corrected Kara.

“Yeah, whatever you want to call it.  Ugh.  It's disgusting.”  Lee offered Laura a sympathetic smile as he watched her with the napkin pressed against her mouth.  “You don’t like it either?”

“I hate black licorice.  Worst thing ever.”

Kara was still giggling.  “Oh, the look on your faces!  I had to….”

“She has a sadistic side, Lee.  You may as well know now,” Laura warned him.

“I’ve known Kara long enough to experience the heights of her cruelty,” teased Lee.  His fiancée was a notorious practical joker.  “Are the rest of these safe?” he asked.

Kara nodded.  “Pineapple cream, strawberry cream, and the other one is vanilla with chocolate shavings.”

“I like the strawberry cream,” said Bill and Laura in unison.  They smiled at one another across the table.

“The strawberry and cream do go really well together,” agreed Kara with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.  

* * *

Laura and Bill headed for the cabin shortly after their kids decided on the strawberry and cream cake.  They wanted to arrive before it got dark, if possible, which wouldn’t be too difficult as long as the traffic was light.  It was the height of midsummer and the days were longer.  They’d probably arrive right before dusk with no trouble.

“Thanks for driving,” said Laura as they traveled down the highway.  There weren’t too many cars on the road and they were making good time.  “And for coming.”

“It’s my pleasure.  You’re doing me a favor, actually.  I’ve never been much for the city.  Galatea is a nice change.”

“Still not warming up to Caprica City?”

“It’s not so bad.”  Bill kept his eyes focused carefully on the road.  “There are some things in Caprica City that I like a lot.”

Laura hummed and smiled.  She didn’t know what it was about Bill and the cabin but it had seemed so right to ask him to join her for another weekend.  She still didn’t feel quite ready for any of this, for what it meant or what it didn’t mean.  Her world was shifting from monochromatic shades into vivid colors again, slowly and by degrees.

Ready or not, she would embrace it.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to lanalucy for the beta and to all my readers for your encouragement. This story wouldn't be what it is without you. Truly.

As he drove to the cabin with Laura, Bill couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt this -- happy. Not even the Friday late afternoon traffic was dampening his mood. He certainly hadn’t expected Laura’s spontaneous invitation to spend another weekend with her. While he wanted to interpret it as meaning that she was finally showing an interest in him, he didn’t want to presume too much. He would enjoy it for what it was, an offer of friendship and a request for support as she continued to sift through the memories that returning to her family’s cabin would undoubtedly bring to the surface. Just the fact that Laura was able to ask for support was a big deal, reflected Bill. She’d spent the past few years largely grieving in self-imposed solitude. He was flattered by her trust but he didn’t want to get his hopes up too high that it meant more than it probably meant.

The sky was covered by a blanket of thick gray clouds as they pulled into the cabin’s driveway. They’d stopped just once after leaving the bakery, to pick up some groceries for the weekend. Laura had insisted that this time around, she’d give Bill something more substantive than peanut butter and jelly. Bill didn’t care what they ate. In fact, he wasn’t sure how conducive to eating the butterflies in his stomach would be.

“It’s supposed to be a rainy weekend,” said Laura as she slipped the key into the door lock, balancing bundles in her arms. Bill had tried to scoop everything up but she was too quick and she shot him a fierce glare when he’d tried to relieve her of some of her bags. He did manage to nonchalantly wrest a couple from her steel grip. Bill had a glower of his own to counter hers, but her sharp look of reproach reminded him of how formidable she could be when pressed. The last thing he wanted this weekend was for her to fortify the old barriers. Her defenses had only just begun to come down so Bill knew that he’d have to tread carefully.

“I don’t mind the notion of a quiet, cozy weekend,” said Bill, as he deftly relieved her of two more bags once they were inside. “It’s supposed to get pretty chilly tonight; does your fireplace work?”

“Yes. I’ve kept the maintenance of the place up. But I don’t have any wood stored.”

“I’ll take care of it,” said Bill. He watched her as she reached up to put some items away into a top cupboard. “I saw a general store on the road where I can get some..” Bill put the last few bags on the kitchen table. “Pretty sure it’s still open. I’ll be back shortly.”

“You don’t have to do that, Bill.”

“Yeah, well I want to.”

Laura rolled her eyes as she snapped up another bag from the table. “Stubborn.”

“Mmmm, just like my hostess. You have a shed, don’t you?”

“In the back. I’m going to start dinner.”

Bill nodded and dug a jacket out of his duffel bag. “Anything else you can think of that you’d like me to pick up while I’m out, Laura?” Bill shrugged on the light jacket.

“No, Bill. I think I have everything I need here.”

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised as he slipped out.

Bill wouldn’t mind the rain and the accompanying mountain coolness that had been predicted for the evening. He liked the idea of being huddled up in the cabin with Laura, just the two of them. A crackling fire. A bottle of wine. He wasn’t being purposefully romantic. But something deep-rooted and unnamed within the depths of his heart was already off and running heedlessly forward. The only thing his half-protesting intellect could do -- was follow.

When Bill returned to the cabin, he could smell dinner cooking. Laura had left the cabin door unlocked for him and he suddenly felt a pang of fierce protectiveness. He was just about to lecture her on the importance of locking her doors if she was by herself when he spotted her curled up on the couch in the living room with a book in her hands, reading quietly. He’d never seen her look so serene and unguarded.

“Is it okay if I put my things in the guest room?” asked Bill softly. Laura had pulled a beige cardigan over her yellow and lavender floral-patterned summer dress. Her hands were inside the sleeves, fingertips poking out only long enough to turn pages. She’d slipped her sandals off. Bill suddenly realized that he was staring and promptly shifted his gaze.

“Of course,” answered Laura absently, clearly absorbed in her novel.

After getting settled, Bill returned to the kitchen area and found Laura cutting vegetables up for a salad.

“Anything I can do to help?” he asked. “Smells good.”

“I’ve got everything covered. Thank you, Bill. There are a couple of bottles of wine on the counter. If you want to open one? I actually found a corkscrew this time.”

“Got it,” said Bill as he went to work on a bottle of Pinot Noir. “How’s _Blackbird_?” he asked as he pressed the corkscrew into the wine cork.

“So good,” replied Laura. “Almost impossible to put down. I think Hector’s a spy for the Conglomerate.”

“You think so, huh? Well, I’ll never tell.” Bill grinned at her as he popped the cork off the bottle of wine while Laura scooted past him to retrieve something from the oven. The kitchen was small. And she was close, so close as she brushed past him that he could feel the heat of her body. He caught a hint of sweet fragrance, her perfume maybe, or it could be her shampoo. She smelled like fresh laundry and summer rain. Bill stepped back and watched her lean over the oven, pulling out a pan of roasted potatoes.

“Dinner’s ready,” said Laura, “if you want to sit down...pour the wine.”

Bill brought two glasses of wine and the bottle to the table. There was salad with balsamic vinaigrette dressing already on the table. Laura came in a few moments later and placed a plate in front of Bill. She’d made roast pork tenderloin with hot apples and cinnamon, roasted potatoes, and steamed asparagus in butter.

“This looks great, Laura.”

“I hope you’re hungry.”

“I am. Where did you learn to cook like this?”

“You’re kind, Bill, but this is nothing. Very easy to prepare. My mom did the fancy stuff. I don’t get to cook too often these days, with working so many hours, and usually just me at the table.”

“I’m used to a lot of frozen stuff on the ship, or something quick like a package of noodles.” Bill took a bite of pork and apples. “Gods, Laura, this is delicious.”

Laura took a long sip of wine. “It’s Kara’s favorite meal. Are you cooking more now that you have the apartment on Caprica?”

“I’m supposed to say yes to impress you but I’ll opt for the truth -- no, not really. Take out mostly. Ellen seems to have taken it upon herself to feed me regularly. You want to give me some pointers while I’m here?”

“I can’t imagine teaching you anything.”

“You think I’d be a difficult student?” asked Bill.

“I think you like to be in charge.”

Bill laughed. “Says the teacher.”

They exchanged mutual smiles. Bill liked the way her green eyes glittered when she was amused. This lighter, vibrant side of Laura was definitely an aspect of her that he hoped he got to see more of.

“Nobody pays attention in music class,” said Laura with a light and playful shrug.

“You think you’d ever teach again?” asked Bill, more seriously.

Laura put down her wine glass. “I’m going to finish out my term as Secretary of Education and then -- we’ll see.”

“You’re going to leave politics?”

“It’s time. I gave my notice a couple of weeks ago. I’ll have more time for piano, for teaching maybe. And I’ll probably still stay involved in the community. Old habits die hard.”

“Yeah, they do, don’t they?”

“If Kara and Lee decide to have children, I can help out more often without working those ridiculous hours.” Laura was quiet for a moment. “So, I guess we’ll both be retired teachers.”

“I’ll trade you a flying lesson for a piano lesson.”

“Oh, Gods no, Bill. I don’t even like driving a car.”

“That’s because you live in Caprica. Flying is so much more relaxing than driving. I’m surprised Kara never coerced you into a flight lesson. She’s a great teacher. Like mother, like daughter.”

“Some days I wish she were still a little girl; it goes by so fast. I know it’s terribly selfish of me but I hope she and Lee can manage to stay close by.” Bill saw a tiny trace of moisture glistening in her eyes as she tilted her head. Her quick laugh didn’t quite cover the more raw emotion underneath. “Otherwise, the phone bill is going to be enormous.”

“Well, we’ll just have to be meddlesome in-laws and keep ‘em here, won’t we?”

Laura nodded enthusiastically, even smiled a little. But Bill could see a telltale chink in her armor and it hit him suddenly. This was hard for her, letting go of Kara. It was always a little sad for a parent when children grew up and got married. But for Laura, it probably felt like yet another type of loss. Even so, she’d been nothing but supportive and encouraging to Kara and to his son.

Laura pushed her chair back. “I made brownies for dessert but I’m stuffed; would you like one though, Bill?” Bill couldn’t help but notice the abrupt subject change. He resisted the urge to reach for her hand. He wondered if she’d ever trust him enough to allow him to comfort her freely and without restraint.

“After, with you.”

Laura rose and began picking up plates but Bill reached out and gently grabbed her wrist.

“I’ll get the dishes,” he told her firmly.

“But -- “

His voice was almost a low growl. “Don’t make me pull out one of my military moves on you, Roslin.”

Her eyes flashed defiantly at him. “I’m perfectly capable of -- “

“Accepting a heartfelt gesture of goodwill with graciousness?” supplied Bill as Laura glared at him from above her glasses. Undaunted, he picked up the plates and headed into the kitchen.

Laura didn’t protest again. Instead, she wiped down the counters and put a few odds and ends away while Bill worked on the dishes.

“So how far again are you in _Blackbird?_ ” asked Bill as he dried off a plate.  It wasn't often he got to discuss a favorite book with a fellow avid reader.

Laura picked up the book from the dry sink where she’d left it. “A little better than halfway. Hector is on the hangar deck with the diplomat’s wife. I love how she subtly manipulates the people around her. She’s simultaneously brilliant and awful.”

Bill grinned. “Oh, it gets better.”

Laura began reading a passage to Bill from the book to show him exactly where she had left off. He enjoyed the smooth cadence of her voice so much that he insisted that she continue reading while he finished up with the dishes. She hesitated with the book in her hands as she studied Bill without speaking for a moment, seemingly weighing the request. Bill was certain that she was going to refuse.

But then she began to read.

Bending over the counter to get the most benefit from the light over the stove, Laura read to him. She read with inflection and emotion but she never overdid it. She was captivated, herself, by the story, and her natural enthusiasm showed in her reading. Bill worked slowly at the dishes just so she’d continue reading to him, just so he could prolong hearing the sound of her voice.

Laura noticed that Bill had finished up with the dishes so she stopped reading. “You want to take this into the living room?” she asked.

“Yeah. You bring the book; I’ll bring the wine. I’m going to work on that fire.”

Bill refilled their wine glasses and left them on the coffee table while he got a fire going. The regular beat of the rain outside was a steady and comforting sound while Bill worked. He could feel Laura’s eyes on him and he wondered what she was thinking. She was a difficult woman to read.

“Do you have any more newspaper?” asked Bill, his throat suddenly very dry as he swiveled his head to look at her. Laura was leaning against the sofa, feet bare, head tilted back slightly as she sipped her wine. She reminded him of a painting he’d seen once at the Caprica Museum of Fine Art of a bacchante celebrating the Dionysian rites, exotic and wild and beautiful.

“Mmmm,” she said, her voice reverberating against the the glass as she released it from her lips. Laura left the room and returned a few moments later with some more newspaper. In no time at all, Bill had a steady blaze going. Carefully, he put the screen in place and they stood nearly shoulder to shoulder watching the crackling fire together. The glow from the flames illuminated Laura’s face and hair with a dancing light that shifted and swayed across her features.

There was nothing accidental this time when Bill leaned toward her or when she reciprocated by tipping her head up toward him as he slowly lowered his mouth to hers. There was no question what his intention was and there was nothing tentative about the way she responded to him. As her hands slid upward from his chest to his shoulders, Bill dragged her closer, increasing the pressure of his mouth against hers. This kiss was nothing like their previous tepid exchanges. There was heat and urgency and need blended into the ardent press of mouth against mouth.

Bill hadn’t anticipated the spiraling loss of control that was triggered in his body from the simple act of merely kissing Laura. He had always imagined that their first real kiss would be slow and sweet, a sensual and tender mutual exploration, not this desperate and immediate need for more of her.

“What are we doing?” Bill murmured against her mouth. His hands caressed her back, deliberate and slow. He hoped that the rest of his body would follow suit and slow down, too.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. She rose up, inviting another kiss, parting her lips when he obeyed. They were both a little unsteady on their feet and it had nothing to do with the wine they’d drunk with dinner so Bill maneuvered them to the couch for support, at least that’s what he told himself, as he slid his body over hers while they continued to exchange a stream of long, languid kisses and the pair of them landed with an audible oomph on the sofa. Laura wriggled underneath him, slipping her arms out from between them and raising them above her head. Bill got the hint and helped her remove her sweater. Slender arms wound enticingly around his neck and Bill could feel the heat of her emanating through the thin fabric of her summer dress. He kissed behind her ear, nuzzling the soft skin there, breathing in the scent of her hair.

“Ow!”

Bill immediately stopped what he was doing and looked at Laura.

“My hair is caught between your elbow and the back of the couch and it’s pulling,” she explained.

“Frak,” said Bill. They shifted positions.

“Much better,” said Laura.

Bill grimaced.

“Bill?”

“Your knee is -- “

As soon as he said it, Laura realized exactly what her knee was pressing into and she moved again. Bill’s face instantly relaxed into an expression of relief. The woman lying underneath his body began to giggle profusely, shoulders shaking with irrepressible mirth. He could feel each and every little tremor of bubbling laughter.

“I’m glad that the sight of me in pain amuses you,” said Bill drily. Laura merely continued to laugh, head tipped back, eyes sparkling. This close, he could clearly see the laugh lines at the corners of her eyes. There was no defense against laughter like that. Bill could do nothing but chuckle right along with her.

“Gods, but you are beautiful,” said Bill softly as he stroked her cheek with the tips of his fingers.

They were both quiet as Laura’s giggles slowly subsided and Bill continued to touch her face.

“Do you think a bed might be a safer choice?” asked Laura.

“Are you propositioning me, Madame Secretary?”

“Well, you _did_ kiss me, Admiral. You can’t expect to run around heedlessly kissing people without consequences.”

“Oh, I think I’m going to like these consequences,” said Bill as he carefully got up and pulled Laura with him.

 

* * *

 

Laura had never imagined that it would be so easy between them, certainly not from the way they’d begun when they had met a few weeks ago for Lee and Kara’s engagement dinner. There was a little cautionary voice in her head warning her that this was probably a terrible idea, that she was being reckless, that she should think about this. But she pushed it down. The flimsy half-notion had little power compared to the much more palpable feel of Bill’s hand in hers as they made their way into what used to be her parents’ bedroom. The lull created by the change in venue slowed things down a bit and gave her a moment to catch her breath -- not that she felt that Bill was rushing her. She was certain that he would adjust to any pace that she set; it was a comforting notion. At the same time, it was all a little daunting, too. There was nothing to hide behind with Bill. He knew more about her in a month than Richard had known in five years’ time. They sat together on the edge of the bed smiling at one another before either of them made a move. Bill slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her against his body. She leaned into him as he kissed lightly along the curve of her neck, hands gliding against her back, up to the place where the fabric of her dress ended as he caressed her skin. She made a small, delighted sound at the direct contact.

“The clothes need to go, Bill.”

“Already?” He sucked lightly on her earlobe and Laura shivered. She slipped her hands under his shirt, splaying her fingers outward against the skin of his stomach. She would enjoy the process of learning his body, the slow and exciting discovery of figuring out what he liked. She moved her hands along the contours of his chest and stomach, varying the pressure and the speed of her caresses, watching the changing expressions on his face while she touched him.

Bill growled into her ear. “Frak, yeah, they do. Immediately, in fact.”

Laura shimmied out of her dress and her undergarments before untucking the bed and slipping under the blankets. Bill wasn’t quite as quick as he was slowed down by zippers, buttons, socks and shoes, but he slipped into bed beside her shortly after discarding his clothing into a tossed heap on the floor. Laura noted that neither of them was overly eager to display their body to the other. She wasn’t twenty any more. There was a time when she could be carelessly naked in front of a lover but those days seemed long past. Richard hadn’t been particularly eager to see her. On most occasions, they’d both been half-dressed anyhow for those quick tumbles that filled a need and a void but somehow always left her resoundingly empty.

This was different -- so different. And Laura wondered how she’d settled all those years. What did it say about her that she had?

“Laura?”

“Mmmm?”

“You just -- you sounded --”

Had she made a sound? If she had, she hadn’t realized it. Bill was rubbing her cheek with the pad of his thumb, looking at her in that way of his that made her feel that he could see to the very bottom of her.

“I’m fine, Bill,” she assured him.

“Fine?”

She smiled. “Better than fine. Kiss me.”

He did. A quick kiss to her lips and then a trail of kisses from her mouth down to her collarbone. He meandered a leisurely path to the soft skin between her breasts, darted his tongue out between his lips, and licked.

He was inching the blankets down as he lowered himself, supporting his weight with his elbows. His hands kneaded her breasts, thumbs grazing her nipples before he bent down and took one rosy bud into his mouth and sucked. Laura wondered if he’d notice how the left breast was slightly smaller than the right one, if he’d observe where the scar was, if he’d ask…. The fleeting thought disappeared when a jolt of heady pleasure coursed through her entire body, taking her by surprise, and drawing a moan from her. Bill shifted his position slightly and she could feel how hard he was as his cock pressed against her thigh.

Laura reached down to take him in her hand and wrapped her fingers around his length, stroking slowly, noticing Bill’s sharp intake of breath the very moment she first touched him there. She wondered what he’d feel like inside her and her hips, seemingly of their own volition, undulated against his body with anticipation. The blankets were gone now, Laura suddenly realized, and it was only Bill’s body covering hers. He caught her wrist and gently restrained the rhythmic motion of her hand. His eyes were glassy when he looked at her.

“If you keep that up,” he warned, his voice trailing off.

“Too much?”

“Too much and not enough.” He gave a breathy laugh as he moved back up, capturing her mouth again, kissing her deeply.

“Make love to me, Bill.”

“Laura, I haven’t even -- “

“I’m more than ready.” She kissed his jaw, his neck, his mouth. Bill slid his hand in between her legs and made slow circles with his fingertips against her center, eliciting a long sigh from her that made him even harder. She parted her legs encouragingly and arched her back as she wrapped her arms around him.

Bill couldn’t resist that kind of artless enticement so he pushed inside of her slowly, allowing her to adjust to the feel of him. He didn’t move until she did and the two of them found a rhythm together that seemed completely familiar, like this couldn’t possibly be the first time they’d been together. It was like an improvisation of a well-remembered melody, the core of their song still the same even if a few of the riffs had changed, intimate and timeless and wholly theirs.

Laura clung to him when she came, burying her face in his shoulder as she cried out. He only lasted a few more thrusts after that as he felt his body dissolve into hers.

They snuggled up together under the blankets. Bill rested his chin against the crown of her hair and wrapped his arms around her pliant body, while her fingertips curled against his chest.

The fire in the fireplace had long ago died out and the rain continued its steady beat against the roof.


End file.
